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drifting-pieces-blog-blog · 11 months ago

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Breaking down the comics: Let's get that BREAD (WBN #32-33)

MOON KNIGHT

WEREWOLF BY NIGHT Issue #32: 'The Stalker Called Moon Knight'

Written by: Doug Moench

Art by: Don Perlin

Published 1975

Are you ready for this? You better be.

Werewolf by Night was started as a "Marvel Spotlight" in 1972.

Or did it?

In 1953, before Marvel was well...MARVEL... It was Atlas Comics. A five page short called "Werewolf by Night" came out. Later, when Marvel formed and comics had a "Comics Code Authority", they approved the use of werewolves and we got our boy Jack Russell.

Want to know something hilarious?

The original creators, Roy Thomas, Jeanie Thomas, Gerry Conway, and Mike Ploog had no idea that Jack Russell was also the name of a popular dog breed. Or if they did, they didn't think about it at the time of naming the main character. Readers started pointing it out and they all went, “Huh. So it is.”

Wanna know something else amazing?

Greer Grant Nelson, AKA: TIGRA, also got her start in Werewolf by Night in 1974, issue #1 of "Giant-Size Creatures" (later renamed Giant-Size Werewolf)

In the 1980s, Jack Russell didn't really make much of an appearance anymore until Moon Knight #29.

Our Beloved Doug Moench picked up Werewolf by Night with issue # 20-43 in 1974-1977.

Moon Knight got started officially in 1980.

He couldn't get the character out of his head after WBN and neither could the fans.

So let’s take a look at the birth of Moon Knight and see if we can’t find out why he went from one time villain to full time hero (and full time occupant to my heart).

One thing to note about Werewolf by Night, we get a lot of narration from Jack Russell himself. And sometimes it's as Jack, and sometimes it's Jack looking at the wolf and others it's the wolf peaking through Jack.

But us Moon Knight fans are used to different perspectives, aren't we?

We open on the title page:

"The tag's Russell, with a Jack in front of it. The kind of name that fits a normal 19 year old dude living out in L.A.--Not the kind of name you'd expect to find slapped on a guy who sprouted fangs, pore-to-pore fur, and wolfish howls every time the moon ballooned full. Unless that guy happened to have a father who was cursed by an arcane book called DARKHOLD --And who inherited his father's curse on his 18th birthday.

Tough, I usually ain't. But when the Full Moon pokes its ugly puss into my life, I turn into the werewolf--and nobody messes with a dude dressed in fur, claws, and pure MEAN. So why didn't somebody tell that to--

THE STALKER CALLED MOON KNIGHT"

LOL Yeah. He’s a stubborn idiot alright.

"Fast, Brutal, and Armed with everything to produce a scream, he was wasting me with no doubt about it. And every time I tried to slash back at the weirdo--My hand exploded in a fire labeled agony."

Second night of the full moon cycle. The wolf is not doing so hot.

His hand is broken and he's facing down this angry guy dressed in silver.

"Get up, you mangy freak!! Get up so I can knock you back down again!"

He lunches at the masked man only to take a punch to the face.

"It was called a cestus--as in Glove. Worn by gladiators in the arena. A cestus is spiked. These spikes were silver. Silver is hell on a werewolf."

He wrestles with Moon Knight who doesn't let up, kicking and punching.

The whole time Moon Knight yells at him.

Bystanders watch in awe.

"Man! That guy's like a tornado on a rampage!"

"I'm hip--but what's that other dude like--Lon Chaney in a mink--?!"

LOL oh 1970s...never change.

Moon Knight addresses the wolf.

"You've had it, Freak. You're half-way gone and I haven't even started!"

Moon Knight unleashes his razor blade silver scresent darts on the wolf.

"It wasn't right. The Moon was supposed to give him strength--fill him with savagery--Not stab him with glaring pain..."

"Drop Freak! Drop like the wounded beast you are!"

Moon Knight kicks him, with his Savate Kick, which is a French Boxing style that combines Boxing with kicking. It predates Kickboxing by 100 years and is quite brutal.

It sends the wolf sprawling. Especially from his silver tipped toe.

They pause and we get a flash back to the night before.

"It had started the night before, when an innocent ski-jaunt in northern California had erupted into a blizzard of horror. As the werewolf, I'd almost murdered a cute 7-year-old girl named Buttons... Fortunately, my best friend, Buck Cowan, had other ideas..."

(If you're cold, he’s cold. Bring him inside)

"So I shivered into them and prepared to wait for Buck. You see, I didn't remember the werewolf's little Blood Tussle with Buck--and since Buck was supposed to pick me up here..."

We see Buck being taken into emergency services and rushed in for immediate surgery.

"After an hour of waiting, I'd begun to worry... Where was Buck?"

We see Buck shredded and crashing on the table.

Jack hitches a ride into down, wondering if his friend is alright.

We see Buck crash in surgery and they frantically try to get his heart back.

Jack makes it back to his Stepfather's house.

"Jack! Are you all right, son?"

"Sure, Dad. As all right as I ever am the morning after a Full Moon. Why? And where's Lissa?"

We see the doctors are finished. There is nothing more they can do for Buck.

"You mean you--You don't remember, son?"

"Remember what? What?!"

"Lissa's down at Westwood Hospital, Jack. Topaz called--Said your friend Buck was hurt... Was mauled... He...He might not pull through, Jack."

Narration: The soft words slammed me, hit me like a thousand crushing mountains--But my only raction was numbness--Disbelief--

"Easy, Jack... Just take it easy, son."

"Easy? I might've killed my best friend and you want me to take it easy?!"

Jack is understandably upset.He runs to the hospital.

Buck is in a coma and "The doctors aren't sure he'll come out of it."

(Who names their kid Buttons?)

They tell the group to go home and get some rest. But they decide not to go with Jack.

"Under the circumstances, we thought it might be best if Lissa stayed with me tonight--at my room-- To keep our minds off Buck--ANd also because well..."

"Go on, Topaz, say it--Because I've got the Moon-Cooties and you don't want to be around when I sprout fangs again. Well, I don't blame you. I'd stay away from me if I could..."

Narration: And that was my exit--as petulant as a cry-baby feeling sorry for its own tears...

Feeling sorry for himself, he heads back for home to apologize to his stepdad before the moon rises and he has to run off again. His hand hurts and he's pretty sure it's broken.

But as he gets home, the door is already open and he senses something is off. Someone else is in there with his Stepdad.

"Dad?"

"In the Den, Jack. There's someone here to see you.."

Yeah! You get that bread! Delicious delicious bread!

"Hello, Russell. They told me to announce myself as The Moon Knight. Pretty stupid name--But It'll do as far as you're concerned--"

Yep. You heard it here first people.

Now, time line gets a little funky if you try to figure out if this was pre or post death and resurrection by Khonshu.

This could either be Mercenary Marc Spector for Hire that heard "werewolf" and dressed up in all silver for protection and then got the name Moon Knight and then it later stuck with him after he came back.... OR this is immediately post resurrection (which I find more likely) and it's his first gig. In a later Moon Knight issue we learn that Frenchie had acted as his contact with the group that hired him and the Moon Knight still had no idea what he was doing and still wasn't 100% on board with the 'good guy' routine. In fact, we later learn that the money he made in this job is what helped him get started in Grant Mansion.

Still doesn't explain why he's like, "Moon Knight? Who the hell picked this name?" And I have to quietly laugh that Marc indeed DID pick the name after he was brought back by Khonshu and the rest of his system was like "Marc, what the fuck? Really? That's what we're going with?"

ANYWAYS...

"His voice was muffled under the silver gauze which covered his face like ectoplasm. That was something else I didn't like..."

Moon Knight explains: Let's say I'm a WORKING Man, Russell, out to do my job and collect my bread. This particular job started down in the waterfront section... Pretty sleazy place--Lots of rats--The stink of filthy Brine--And rotting, sagging warehouses... But one of those warehouses is a lot like that Book you're not supposed to judge by it's cover --Because inside, it ain't rotting or sagging, and the only stink is the smell of money. LOTS of money. I went there on a tip--And found out it was a set-up..."

We see a bunch of businessmen at a table.

"So you're Mark Spector."

"I'm Spector. Who're you?"

"We'll get to that in time, Mr. Spector. Right now, I find your dossier immensely interesting... Soldier of fortune, mercenary, veteran of THREE African wars, FIVE south American revolutions, Brief flirtation with the C.I.A., Weapons expert, versatile practitioner of virtually all the martial arts, ex-prizefighter, marine commando for Eight years prior to beating a Lieutenant within an inch of his life...Et cetera."

"So your research department is hot stuff. So what? I was told there'd be money down here. What do I do to get it?"

Okay so... We don't ever get this dossier again guys. THIS is the dossier of Marc Spector (despite that they spell it Mark here). In fact, they never really review Marc's past in the later comics again. They just say he's well versed in combat.

That...That is a lot of combat. A lot of war and a lot of revolutions. And we know he wasn't always on the right side of the revolutions. We know he was a boxer, but the prizefighter bit is new. So is the 8 years Marine AND the beating a lieutenant part. We can assume he was discharged after that. That's interesting.

So when writers forget that MArc knows what the hell he's doing... I have to frown at them a lot. Marc is dangerous. Marc decided he was going to be worth the money and he damn well was.

Back to the gentlemen!

"I admire your directness, Mr. Spector, and shall endeavor to emulate it. First, we want you to open that compartment now rising from the table... Then don the rather unique costume you will find inside it. ANd utilize every weapon accompanying that costume..As well as your inherent abilities--To capture and deliver to us a werewolf named Jack Russell. Upon Delivery, you will receive this. Then thousand dollars."

WELP. There you have it. (But again... take this history with a grain of salt. He wasn't supposed to come back.)

"That's the story, Russell. Me, I don't believe in werewolves--But the committee's got ten grand that does--So who am I to argue?"

Ah, the COmmittee. A group of people out to capture the werewolf in some attempt to try to harness its power.

We see them come back in Moon Knight Issue #4.

Moon Knight tells Russell that he either goes easy or gets delivered as 'bruised goods'.

"My head was swimming through queasy nausea as he stalked forward. Was it the pain in my hand or had the Moon festered into a darkening sky?

My Stepfather decided the issue."

His stepfather tackles the Moon Knight and tells Jack to run.

Jack makes a run and starts to feel the Wolf taking over.

Above him he hears a Helicopter giving chase, tracking him.

"That's our man up ahead, Frenchie..." We see Moon Knight and Frenchie in the chapter. (Even back then we got the pair and this makes me happy.) "ANd he's just made me a believer in werewolves."

For once, the werewolf cares not about the scattering humans in the street. He knows the chopter is the target of his distress.

Moon Knight climbs down the ladder in pursuit.

I mean... How many people will go, "WOW .Werewolves are real?!" and then proceed to get into a fight with said werewolf?

AND WIN THE FIGHT.

One of the spectators decides that enough is enough and he calls the police before these crazy things decide to eat them or something (Moon Knight included. Dude just tackled a wolf creature and got into a fight with it on purpose).

The police take a moment to digest this info.

"Some comic book weirdo is sluggin' it out with a werewolf on a street corner in Westwood."

Yeah, that sounds about right.

They try to call in the local expert, but he's on vacation.

At this point we start to head into Werewolf by Night lore and back story. I'll admit... I've never actually READ werewolf by night. So all of this is very new to me and I have no explanation for who these people are or what's happening. So I'm going to skip a bit of what I'm SURE is important to the long run of the story but will not come up as important to these two key issues we're focusing on. (But you can bet your buppie that I'm going to start reading it. This hat is in my bag. ...This 1970s talk is getting to me.)

Meanwhile, the two girls from before, Lissa and Topaz, are worrying about Buck and Jack. A helicopter lands and ....Frenchie....what are you doing? Did you learn this from watching Marc? Don't bust through windows!

(I’m not counting this. But I should.)

Back with Moon Knight and the Wolf.

"I slashed, still favoring my broken hand--and growled in fury as he deftly evaded my raking talons. He'd produced a new weapon now. It looked like a Truncheon. And it was definitely silver."

(No don’t chew it! Someone put the cone of shame on him!)

And there’s Moon Knight, getting to know the ground. He and the ground are gonna be best friends in future runs.

Moon Knight uses his truncheon to beat the beast and finally the wolf goes down. On cue, Frenchie arrives in the chopper with both girls.

This issue comes to an end with Moon Knight GETTING THAT BREAD.

Moon Knight is also about to have what I lovingly call: A BAD DAY. But that’s in the next issue.

Werewolf By Night Issue #33: ' Wolf-Beast vs Moon Knight'

Written by: Doug Moench

Art by: Don Perlin

Published 1975

You guys. I can’t wait to show you that Moon Knight’s bad decision skills dates back to his first appearance. You have no idea.

TITLE PAGE!

I love how they get the names of the people involved in this comic and they put it into the pictures.

Also... We witness the first of many bad decisions.

The chopper continues to rise and the police open fire.

He’s doing fine.

We got more exposition that I'm going to skip because it has more to do with the overall arch of the WBN story and nothing that will come into play in this two part story.

Now we come to the helicopter flying out over the dock and water.

Welcome to part 1 of Moon Knight's bad day.

“No, you stupid idiot! We’re five-hundred feet up!!”

Buddy.... Pal... Bestie...

Narration: But the werewolf didn't care. He was mad. So mad that he'd even forgotten about his broken hand...

They splash down into the water.

"Mangy Freak! The Committee's payin' me ten grand to bring you in alive--And you almost drown us both before I even--"

Narration: The fight wasn't out of the werewolf yet... In fact, I was just beginning to roar.

"Crazy fur coat with fangs--! I musta told you a dozen times--The committee wants you alive! And if you can't get that through your hairy head--I'm gonna have to pound it in!!"

Narration: And in the pounding there was pain--Pain caused by Moon Knight's arsenal of silver weapons...His studded cestus, punching at me...Even the crescent darts, still embedded in my bristling skin... But even if the werewolf had understood the threat silver posed to him, I doubt it would've made much difference. He still remembered the beating he'd taken from this foe. The memory made him MAD...And the rage demanded revenge.

"Not again, beast-man--I'm getting tired of this!! Watch out you stupid--"

And back in the water they go.

Narration: We hit the pacific for the second time... The water shot fire through my shattered hand, made it throb like a hiccupping balloon... But what was that compared to the beast's life-and-death lust for vengeance--? Answer: Bright nothing, wrapped in pretty bows of bloody violence. So we fought, both struggling to escape hell...

Narration: ...Each determined to win that struggle... And each to leave the other behind. It was the werewolf who won, breaking free of hell with gasps and wheezes...

I hauled myself onto the rotting planks, still gasping... But triumphant.

Or so the werewolf thought.

"Hold it, mange-puss... I ain't heard no count of ten yet..."

Moon Knight no...

Narration: It was impossible. I'd slashed, clawed, mauled, and choked him--ANd he wanted more, still MORE--! I gave him more, a vicious roundhouse slash... But the Moon Knight clutched for that slash and he yanked. Hard.

And they go back into the water.

Moon Knight climbs back out a moment later.

"God, that thing's dynamite on wheels...Never fought so hard in my life... Gotta rest... Catch my breath... Before he surfaces again... ALREADY?!"

Narration: Yeah, already-And the fever was too high to quit. It was long overdue, and the werewolf had long since paid for it in pain...

It was time for the payoff--For returning favors--And for doing unto the other until what was done... COuld never be undone.

The wolf beats on Moon Knight for a bit. He’s pretty ticked off.

Moon Knight's pretty exhausted at this point and the wolf is starting to get the upper hand.

But then... Whoopse. It's morning!

The night is over and the wolf turns back into a very beat up sad Jack Russel...

You know how I know this is Marc? (Aside from the fact that this is Pre official Moon Knight and Jake and Steven haven’t been written into existence yet). THE BAD DECISIONS.

Someone yells down to them and Moon Knight thinks it might be the cops. But it turns out to just be a drunk guy heading home after a night on the town.

"Well, thank the moon for small miracles... But I still can't believe I saw this guy change like that...My darts must be hurtin' the poor freak. Might as well take 'em out.."

Frenchie arrives and Moon Knight once more carries Jack up the ladder towards that bread.

Back at the hospital, Buck woke up only briefly to call out for his friends then fell back asleep.

The doctor informs the lady that "whatever mauled Mr. Cowan inflicted extensive damage to his sacral region--His lower back--Severing oth the sciatic and femoral nerves. We've done our best, but he still might be paralyzed from the waist down... If he emerges from the coma."

Yup. Can confirm. You need those nerves. That's not good news.

Back with Moon Knight! He is now before the committee and he's brought along the two girls and Jack. Time for bread day.

"All right bozos--You've already stalled the whole day in some top secret meeting-and I ain't waitin' any longer! I brought you your pigeon. Now where's my bread?!"

"You've brought us an unconscious kid, Mr. Spector...Or should I say Mr. Moon Knight? You seem to be taking that costume rather seriously... But as I was saying, we still have no proof that you have delivered a bona fide Werewolf. Indeed, we can't even be certain that this young man is Jack Russell..."

The committee also show skepticism that one of the two girls is Jack's sister "and therefore destined to become a werewolf herself someday."

The committee decides to wait until the final full moon appears that night and they can see for themselves.

Moon Knight is displeased.

"I oughta smack that scummy nose right down your throat."

If it were me, I would not mess with this man. He just spent a whole night fighting a werewolf.

Jack wakes up to find himself still in a lot of pain and locked in a cage.

The committee tell Jack that they plan to keep the werewolf as a pet to release when they want certain people murdered.

As one might imagine, Jack is not on board with this plan.

He turns to Moon Knight :

"And YOU, crusader rabbit--Are you in the habit of getting paid for slamming people into CAGES?! That's right, I said PEOPLE! Are you shocked to hear that I'm an honest to god Person? Or have you been trying to forget it?! Well, I'm gonna give you a refresher course, Pal... I may be a werewolf--But on my nights off I'm still human! And Believe me, Fancy pants, being the werewolf is a far worse cage than these stinking bars!"

And the moon rises and he starts to change.

The committee is all shocked to see him change.

The wolf is NOT happy to be caged.

The committee members congratulate Spector "Or Moon Knight if you prefer..."

(Isn't that so interesting? Even in this early issue where he's just a one off character and no history or past drawn up yet, they still can't get his identity right? What were you planning Mr. Moench? Even back then?)

Moon Knight doesn't say anything, simply watches the wolf freak out in his cage.

Jack's sister yells at him. Accusing him of selling Jack to people who want to "turn him into the murderer he's always feared he would become! The murderer he's always fought to avoid--Even when it tore his soul in two!!"

"Don't listen to her, Marc. Sure, he's her brother... But he's still just a freak--just a beast... Why worry about a beast?"

Narration: Moon Knight took the money... And stared at me again...

"Just a beast, all right... But at least a cleaner and more honest beast than you slimy slugs! At least he's a beast with guts! A beast who fights ony to be free! And that's the kind of fight I support, Lard-Butts!!"

Moon Knight kicks open the bars! That's one hell of a kick.

The wolf is loose! And the Moon Knight has changed sides!

I gotta respect that one member in the back...

"But I... I don't even carry a gun! I'm just a businessman! You guys dragged me into this werewolf deal because you said it would be good for the economy!"

"We're ALL businessmen, Hicks!"

"Yeah--And you're all goin' outta business now!! Especially your two-ton leader.. So I'd advise him to get his lard in gear--Unless he wants it kicked from here to Monterey!" -Moon Knight.

Narration: The Silver one--The one with the PAIN. He was the one I wanted... But he ducked.

The wolf soars past Moon Knight and attacks one of the men with guns.

"Sorry, Fido--But if there's one thing I've learned, it's more fun fightin' with you than against you-- So go get 'em Tiger!"

"Holy Smokes! Almost forgot the two chicks Frenchie nabbed... With allthe lead flyin' around here, they're liable to turn into swiss cheese."

Good job Marc. You're doing great there.

He cuts the two girls down and tells them to make a run for it.

"But what about Jack?" Jack's sister cries out.

"Just get outta here! He can take care of himself!" Moon Knight shoos them away.

"Come ON, Lissa. I don't know what turned that man from a villain into a hero, but he's right--! At this point, Jack has a far better chance than we do--"

The girls get out and Moon Knight and the Wolf keep fighting through the bad guys.

Narration: On our own or not, the committee was falling to pieces. Most ran. Others fell. The Moon Knight seemed to geta kick out of it, batling like some gayblade swashbuckler straight from Errol Flynn country...

(What)

"And Another gabardine hits the dust!"

(What?)

(I'mma play it straight with you... The 1970s language is 100% a thing. It's even better when you remember Marc is from Chicago so all this is probably said with a pretty stiff chicago accent and I'm crying cause I'm trying not to laugh so hard right now. I��ll just let you read through those lines yourself and slap a strong chicago or new york accent on that.)

ANYWAYS…..

Moon Knight punts the guy to the wolf who lets off a little steam on him.

All the bad guys are taken care of. This just leaves Moon Knight and the Wolf in the room alone.

Narration: Fatso hit the floor like rubberized Jello, and when the quivering stopped...it was just the two of us. I growled, softly...

"Now wait a minute, Pal. You 'n me just fought together. That makes us brothers of the blood where I come from... Where's your sense of camaraderie? Even Frenchie's got some o' that."

Marc...

"All right--If that's the way you feel about it, I'm going' I'm goin'! I may've fought you for ten grand--But I sure ain't gonna do it for free...!"

....he jumps out the window.

"And they used to say I was antisocial... I'll send you a bill for the cape, Pal. Ciao!"

(and they did send a Bill to fix that cape. A Bill Sienkiewicz to be exact.)

WELP. I’m sorry to tell you I don’t know if Buck will live or walk again. (I’m sure he’s fine). But this ends Moon Knight in Werewolf by Nigh!

He appears in several things before 1980 when he gets his own official run. He pops in with the Hulk (in that run we meet Randall. Then say goodbye to Randall) and he also gets a few spotlights.

The fact that he was supposed to be a one time villain and in just TWO issues, we got so much characterization and tidbits of back story (I’d love to explore that antisocial comment he made back there.) that they couldn’t help but give him more chances. I swear, in these two issues, we got a better look at Moon Knight than I’ve seen certain OTHER writers give him!

And if I hadn’t of fallen in love with him back when I did, just reading through these couple of issues would have me head over heels. His tenacity, his poor decisions, his repeated trip into the water… This man came out fighting for his life and he’s he went out fighting.

Here’s to you, Moon Knight. The only person in the whole Marvel Universe stupid enough to fight a werewolf for a solid night and then try to make friends with that werewolf.

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight comics #Werewolf by night #Marc Spector #Jack Russell #Get that bread #Moench #He spends a lot of time in the water #Poor wet little cat #Fighting that dog #Marc no

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besidesitstoowarm · 1 month ago

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"The Vampires of Venice" thoughts

i'd blown this one off as a total filler waste and i was so wrong. i had so much fun rewatching this

so, salladhor saan is here. also the milf from peaky blinders according to my boyfriend but i didn't watch that show. her fit is fire tho. he's giving his daughter up for boarding school and she gets bit by the most weirdo man i've seen in a MINUTE

anyway this is an amy/rory episode. but it's early days so it just kind of makes you think they should have broken up a long time ago? i know where their arc is going obvs so i actually love rewatching their beginning, her abandonment issues crash headlong into his "i can't believe i landed such a gorgeous girl" thing and it SHOULD be ass but they actually love each other so much behind the disfunction it makes me nauseous. imagine mickey but well-written. sorry russell but rory is infinitely better than mickey in every way

he's at his stag do and leaves her a goofy-ass voicemail about how much he loves her. god i love him. there's supposed to be a stripper in a cake but the doctor jumps out instead and says there's a girl outside in her underwear so would someone bring her in and give her a sweater. eleven is so asexual EXCEPT when he talks to river and it kills me. rory has been reading up on science!! he understands the tardis!! the doctor wanting to send them on a date is super well-intentioned, he thinks "well this experience is so based that you need to both embark on it so y'all can Get It" i think he's right

that said we can't fully avoid rory-getting-shit-on. psychic paper says the doctor is the pope, amy is a viscountess, and rory is... her eunuch?? that's so fucked up doctor. he produces his library card and it has william hartnell i just want to point out. that's my sweet baby boy right there. anyway amy wants to ruse her way into the evil vampire school and proposes the doctor pretends to be her fiance, and then when that seems improbable, she says rory should pretend to be... her brother. it's literally so busted. but it's very on-brand for amy, and i really love that aspect. she's nasty but she's real

a lot of animosity between the doctor and rory. "she'll be fine" "you can promise me that, can you?" yeah literally good point. flashlights come out "yours is bigger than mine" "let's not get into that" frankly i think rory is girthy but i have no evidence. his entire bit about "you make them want to impress you" is FIRE. it's true!! dead to rights!!

so the milf is a fish. it's fine. she says "we ran from the silence" and i get the whole "silence and the end of all things" but i don't think it's a coincidence that the major villain of early s6 is "The Silence" like let's be so for real it's gotta be connected. love the doctor completely rejecting an alliance because "you didn't know isabella's name" cause that is his whole thing. acknowledge their humanity

salladhor saan dies. rip. he esploded. it's fine. the milf keeps being like "are you okay facilitating the end of a species??" sorry this is lowkey just tuesday for him. been here before. rip fish milf. i like this episode a lot. next one is going to make me insane i think

#doctor who #besides its too rewatch #dw s5 #the vampires of venice

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nocturnalghoul · 2 years ago

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Mushy May Day 19: Found Family

Special has never really felt like they have a pack, but they have Cowbell and that's enough.

Partner ficlet with my Day 15 entry about Special and Cowbell's connection and how they are like brothers to one another. This is Special's side of the dynamic and the other one was Cowbell.

I am trying to get caught up on my Mushy May's but we will see how it goes. Also gonna do a quick little tag for @askingforthesun cause I yelled about this in your DM's a bunch <3

Words: 822

Rating: Gen/Everyone

Read below the cut or on AO3 here:

Special has never truly fit into a real pack, he just has Bell.

The band ghouls and him are all still close enough, it's good to know the band you are doing PR for, but he isn’t technically in the band. They are a very close knit group and while Special is welcome to join them at any time there is a difference between that and the intense connection of the pack. Several times he has tried to hang out with the general non-band ghouls but they are uncomfortable with the status he holds. It has been made very clear by Sister Imperator that Special is above them in rank and disapproves of the beloved PR ghoul “wasting his time” with them.

Cowbell however, fills a similar role to Special, both ghouls thrown into this weird in between area. They are technically part of the group but also partially on the outside looking in. That kindred connection tied the two of them together in the beginning until it reached the point of closeness like brotherhood that they have reached now.

Bell is technically a band ghoul, Special has made sure time and time again that the earth ghoul be included in that definition, but his time was so short lived that they too are not a true part of that pack. They are a bit odd even by ghoul standards, and while everyone still loves them immensely, it's still plain to see it. Special however always sees all of Bell’s idiosyncrasies as charming. They are a weirdo, but they are his weirdo.

Of all the ghouls, Bell is the only one that Special truly feels like he can confide in. He would do anything for the little ghoul and they return the sentiment the best way they can, by making them feel included. Bell is the only one who makes them feel like part of a pack, and Special loves his brother for that.

There are times however that he wishes his brother would include him a little less. Looking down at the matching crop tops that Bell has made, Special decides this is one of those moments. The earth ghoul clearly not only cut them themselves with what he guesses had to be garden shears instead of real scissors, leaving a brutal hack job, but also fingerpainted them.

“I’m not wearing that Bell” Special declares with as much certainty as he can manage. The earth ghoul looks so excited though, and already Special can feel himself starting to soften. Special is a ghoul who could talk his way out of anything, but when it comes to his brother all that rhetoric leaves him.

“Come on, Spesh” is all Cowbell has to say in response, letting his big sad eyes do the rest of the convincing. With a deep sigh he caves, replacing his current uniform shirt with the crop top. Someday he will figure out how to tell his brother no and actually mean it, but not anytime soon.

Not that he would ever admit it, but it's silly moments like that which really make him feel the most loved and welcomed inside the abbey. Special might have decided to take Bell under his wing to begin with, but it was their dedication that made the two begin the path to being brothers.

~~~

When his brother first started hanging around Ifrit, he was worried. The loud and boisterous fire ghoul seemed perfectly poised to break his brother's heart so Special did the one thing he was good at, and that wouldn’t get him in trouble for jeopardizing the ghost project, he talked. By the time he was done with his whole hurt my brother and I’ll hurt you ‘discussion’, Ifrit looked like he was gonna shit himself in fear. That’s fine though, just shows that the fire ghoul was listening.

The text he got from Bell later that day reading “Special Philharmonic Ghoul, what the fuck did you say to scare Ifrit so bad” may have been an indication he had gone a bit overboard considering the full name drop, but Bell was worth a little drama. Besides, it didn’t seem to scare the fire ghoul away at all and that was respectable.

Slowly as Ifrit started to begrudgingly grow on him, not that he would ever admit that, Special realized that as long as Bell cares for them that’s all the vote of confidence in the ghoul he really needs. Bell always makes sure to make Special feel included, so maybe it was time for him to return the favor and include the fire ghoul in their little circle as well. Slowly his reminders to Ifrit change from “if you hurt them” to “if you let them get hurt” and while Ifrit still seems concerned at the tone, the blinding smile on his brother’s face at the approval is all he needs to know the right decision has been made.

#mushy may #nocturnal mushy may #the band ghost #nocturnal #nocturnal writings #cowbell #special ghoul #cowbell and special are brothers your honor!

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wyvern-of-whimsy · 5 months ago

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Ty for the tag!!! Good music choices 👌

W - WEIRDOS by NOAHFINNCE

Y - Yosemite by half alive

V - Vibrant Eyes by CG5

E - Everything Stays by Adventure Time and Olivia Olson

R - Razzmatazz by I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

N - Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives

O - Oh Yeah, You Gonna Cry? by Lovejoy

F - Find the Pieces by Tryhardninja

W - Welcome Home by Derivakat

H - Hermit Gang - Elybeatmaker Remix by elybeatmaker

I - I / Me / Myself by Will Wood

M - Mamma Mia (cover) by Andrew Weber

S - She Wants Me (To Be Loved) by The Happy Fits

Y - You Can Always Come Home by Toby Fox

It was difficult to do this without repeating a band, lol! It was fun tho, esp cus i just made new playlists for the new year

@jaz-it-up @eldest-of-katts @internet-or-sleep @anxieteaspooks

Guys i had this in my drafts from 2023 and was gonna delete it. BUT these r some fire song recs and i dont want them to go to waste

Tag game by @genxrocker! Pick a song for each letter of your URL, and then tag that many people!

tag game! hell yeah! Thanks @schlauhonk

A- A pizza the action by The Stupendium

X- Exorcism by Creep-P

S- Shocking Plot Twist by Bug Hunter

O- Once and for All from Newsies

L- Lady Like by KIRA

O- One Step Ahead from Spies are Forever

T- The Faulty Feline Philosophy by Ferry

L- Like the Zombies do from Z-O-M-B-I-E-S 2

E- Everybody Loves Me by OneRepublic

@lamarckianenterprises @ghost-takes-the-scene @nervousflowerwombat @gigigiaru uhhhhhh idk

#tag game #song recs #username game #ty for the tag!!

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greetings-and-salutations · 2 years ago

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“Slightly More Anonymous Than Usual Karate Kids Getting Wasted and Starting Fist Fights”

Robby Keene x Reader Part 1

Day 4 of the 13 Nights of Halloween Spooktacular!!!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

(Gif not mine)

Requested? No

Summary: (Y/n) really doesn’t want to go to the stupid Halloween Masquerade Ball. But, maybe Moon was right. Maybe she’d finally find her soulmate under the cheap streamers and disco lighting… (a cinderella retelling)

soulmate au: You find your soulmate when you touch for the first time and the date and time you met becomes engraved as a tattoo on your wrist.

Warnings: starred out swear words, that’s about it? Nothing really happens in this part. It’s a build up 😂👌

Pairing: Robby Keene x Fem!Reader

“What kind of weirdo school hosts a masquerade ball on Halloween? Scratch that. Better question: what kind of weirdo school hosts a masquerade ball at all?” (Y/n) asked bitterly, as Yasmine tossed another dress on top of the, already much too large, pile in her arms. Yas was excited for the dance. (Y/n) on the other hand…

The blonde simply shrugged her shoulders, her mind clearly focused on the task at hand, rather than her friend’s words.

“West Valley, apparently.” She held up a baby blue dress to (Y/n)’s figure with a scrutinizing gaze before returning it to the rack. “Oh, c’mon, (Y/n/n). Don’t be such a buzzkill. I’m sure it’ll be fun.” (Y/n) gave her an disbelieving look.

“If by ‘fun’ you mean: hiding in a corner while the karate kids get wasted on questionable punch and start another fist fight, then yeah… fun…” Yasmine rolled her eyes, clearly used to the other girl’s dramatics.

“(Y/n)…” She started, but she just continued.

“No, I suppose you’re right. This one will be different. There’ll be slightly-more-anonymous-than-usual karate kids getting wasted and starting fist fights. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m sold.”

And she wasn’t even exaggerating. (Y/n) would be genuinely surprised if some karate-gang related violence didn’t go down at the school-sanctioned holiday event. It was almost tradition at this point. A tradition (Y/n) wasn’t necessarily too keen to be a part of.

“You don’t have to be so sarcastic.” Yas pointed out, moving through the aisles of clothing with a purpose that (Y/n) was, as of yet, unaware.

“Sarcastic? Whatever do you mean?” (Y/n) fired back with an over-exaggerated gasp that sent the blonde sighing in complaint. “I’m clearly just thrilled about being invited to something so exclusive. It’s not like the entire school was invited or anything. Oh wait…” (Y/n) trailed off as they finally stopped in front of a set of couches placed purposefully in front of a pair of fitting rooms.

“Remind me again why I took you dress shopping?” Yas asked, pinching her nose with a sigh, as (Y/n) dropped the dress pile haphazardly onto one of the chairs.

“Because you’ve secretly hated me all these years and derive happiness from my misfortunes?” (Y/n) offered with a sarcastic smile that caused Yasmine to make a disapproving face, before something behind (Y/n) seemed to catch her eye.

“Well, that was a little dark. Is (Y/n) in a bad mood cause she’s being forced to go all Cinderella this weekend?” Moon asked as she came up to the two with a handful of dresses of her own in her grasp. Yasmine nodded her head.

“Uh huh.”

“Jokes on you, that’s actually pretty accurate. I’ve gotta leave at 12.” (Y/n) pointed out, suddenly glad for her mothers strict, yet, somehow simultaneously, often varying, curfew. Yas turned to her with such an offended face you’d think she had just casually mentioned murdering a small puppy. Or, in a more Yasmine-style example, apparently: leaving a party before the obligatory five hour mark.

“What the he*l? Why?” She asked, Moon paying attention, but seeming less insulted by the conversation, as she rifled through the pile of tulle and lace. (Y/n) just shrugged.

“Mom’s working a weird shift. She wants me home before she leaves.” She explained, causing Yasmine to groan obnoxiously.

“You’re mom sucks.” She complained, causing (Y/n) to laugh.

“I bet if I told her you said that she wouldn’t let me go to the dance with you.” She pointed out, still kind of looking for an excuse to get out of the whole thing, but also having pretty much come to terms with the fact that she would more-than-likely be forced to attend. Yasmine turned to her with a devilish grin.

“Bold of you to assume we were going together.” She teased, (Y/n)’s jaw dropping at the words.

“What the actual f*ck? Who?” She asked, suddenly much more interested in the whole endeavor, though she certainly wasn’t going to tell her friends that. Yas blushed a little, before answering.

“Demetri asked me.” She said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. (Y/n)’s brow furrowed. Sure, she knew who he was. Demetri Alexopolous: that loud-mouthed nerdy kid that (Y/n) shared a math class with. There was nothing wrong with him. (Y/n) suppose he was actually a pretty nice guy under all the… personality. But Yasmine had never seemed the “personality” type…

“And you said yes?” She asked, still not quite believing it. Yas shrugged.

“I’ve got layers, you know.” (Y/n) didn’t know how true that was, but opted not to comment on it, as another thought had suddenly gained her attention.

“Is he your…“ she trailed off gesturing to the inside of her blank wrist, not wanting to say the word ‘soulmate’ out loud as it was considered unlucky to talk about them before they were found. Not that (Y/n) necessarily believed the superstition, but if there ever was a time of year for her to start…

“Well, no.” Yasmine started casually, though by the way she was picking at her manicure, (Y/n) could tell there were certainly some unpacked feelings on the subject. But, before either she or Moon could comment on it, she was continuing. “But whoever said there’s harm in having a little fun in your teen years?” (Y/n) sent her a pointed look.

“My mother.” She joked, though ultimately deciding against interfering in Yasmine’s love life. It just wasn’t worth the hassle, besides she was sure the blonde girl wouldn’t listen to her anyways. “But you do you, babe…” (Y/n) turned to Moon, who was now holding up a red dress to her person and admiring it in the mirror. “So what about you then? Pick me up at 7?” She asked jokingly, though her smile dropped when Moon turned to face her with an apologetic expression.

“About that…” (Y/n)’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open in shock, and a tad bit of anger.

“What the actual sh*t!?! So not only do I have to go to this stupid dance that I really don’t want to go to, by the way. But, I also have to go stag like some friendless loser?” This is bullsh*t! What had (Y/n) done to deserve such poor luck? And on one of her favorite days of the year too!

“Sorry…” Moon mumbled, Yas quick to piggy back off her with a “Yeah, sorry, babe,” before Moon continued her feeble attempt to remedy the situation.

“I mean we’ll still hang out with you and everything-“ She started, Yasmine agreeing from her new spot, now having replaced Moon in front of the mirror as she contemplated something in a shiny dark purple.

“Yeah, totally! You won’t be able to get rid of us.” She added, though (Y/n) couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

“Uh huh.” (Y/n) grumbled her annoyance, reaching forward into the pile and grabbing the first thing she saw, quickly checking the tag, before standing to leave. “Oh, look. This is my size. I’m gonna go pay.”

“Wait, don’t you want to try it-“ Moon started asking, but (Y/n) had already been in here with Yasmine for over an hour and honestly, she had some much-needed alone time to get to if she was expected to be able to make it through the following evening.

“Nope!” She said, not turning back as the front desk came into view.

“Okay… we’ll see you tomorrow then?” Moon called out across the store, (Y/n) throwing a thumbs up back in answer.

“For sure. Bye!”

“Bye, (Y/n)!”

“Yeah, bye babe!”

+ + +

“Will this be all for you today?”

“Yup.”

“That’ll be $249.99.”

Lovely…

Tag lists are open!!!

Tags: @electriclcvewp @kaqua @nickangel13 @lolawassad @imaslutforsstuff @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @nani-2305 @hawkinsavclub1983 @kaitieskidmore1

#13 Nights of Halloween Spooktacular #cobra kai fic #cobra kai x reader #robby cobra kai #cobra kai fanfic #cobra kai imagine #robby keene cobra kai #robby keene fluff #robby keene soulmate au #robby cobra kai x reader #robby keene fic #robby keene fanfic #robby keene x reader #robby keene

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thewiscryptid · 3 years ago

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SHE’S SO BROKEN INSIDE -- C - R - A - Z - Y !!

a reboot of my sentence starters for crazy ex girlfriend season 1 please change any pronouns/words to make it more applicable for your usage! some mature themes apply!

“This is what Happy feels like. This is what I’m supposed to feel like.”

“Why aren’t you happy?!”

“You didn’t even break skin and you inconvenienced a lot of people.”

“Remember you said that if I was in the neighborhood I should give you a buzz? Well… BUZZ!”

“I’m taking a few of these until my business cards come in, just so if anyone asks why I’m here, I can say ‘It’s for work! It’s legitimate!.”

“Because you’re pretty and you’re smart and you’re ignoring me so you’re obviously my type.”

“I’m not good for much but I do know it’s not right to hook up with a crying girl.”

“You half Italian? I can always tell.”

“He should be a search term on porn sites.”

“He made me feel warm inside— like glitter was exploding inside me.”

“I’m not in love. That would be stupid.”

“I’m crazy and I’m irrational and I’m everything my mother ever said I was.”

“If we play this right, it’s gonna hit him like a bag of nails to the balls.”

“Could we have a postmortem on the whole make out-crying situation?”

“Bras are in aisle one.”

“I’m going to gracefully exeunt and be chased….by a bear.”

“Maybe I will throw my saddle on that filly and take her for a ride around the paddock. ...Wow. Men are disgusting.”

“They spread a rumor that I slept with the English teacher! Which was totally a lie because we only did hand stuff!”

“Of course we’re friends because what other agenda could I possibly have?”

“I want to cut the silky hair right off your head and slurp it up like spaghetti.”

“We were just being cute! Cute kissing! For attention!”

“I can’t be friends with women. Everyone wants to have sex with me!”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that telling the truth from the beginning was probably the right option.”

“Luna bars are for women. I think they have menstrual blood in them or something.”

“A true friend loves you no matter what, even if your downward dog is horrible.”

“Now, if someone pulls a gun on me, I pull out my knife!”

“Come sit on my lap like I’m Santa and listen to me—”

“Put those things away, you’re going to poke a kid’s eye out.”

“I don’t leave when there’s whiskey left.”

“It was weird and sad and kinda beautiful in a pure and unironic way.”

“You’re really starting to fit in here. That’s not a compliment.”

“She’s seriously ‘bonker balls’.”

“The last thing you need right now is a conversation with a pathological narcissist!”

“How are you? UTIs under control?”

“Hey, don’t skate sad!”

“Let’s leave the children outta here for a sec.”

“Shut up, I love that fire! It’s my favorite fire!”

“How could a guy with a man bun know what’s authentic?!”

“You took some guy home from our date and SLEPT with him? What’s WRONG with you?!”

“I make no sense and you shouldn’t waste your time on me, can’t you see that?”

“I have an IQ of 164. On the entire SAT, I only got two questions wrong and in subsequent years, those questions were removed for being misleading.”

“You are a good person. He is a good person. …. We are good person.”

“What do you want me to say, people? That she doesn’t have the softest hair? And that I don’t watch her while she sleeps? Because I do! She’s an Angel.”

“She had flyaways! I can’t have her walking around like that.”

“You know I want to turn you in so much, because you’re an actual piece of human garbage.”

“Can I get a free beer? I’m down like $10,000.”

“My parents are alive. They’re just frigid and unloving.”

“Parents love brown nosers but men? Men love a woman who looks like me.”

“Chicken soup is just gross, hot, fat water.”

“I got a tongue scraper! Things are looking hhhhhhhexcellent.”

“Look at you, old man. You loooose! You have tubes in your face!”

“You promised me a drink and I got tired of waiting.”

“It was like Pearl Harbor meets the movie Pearl Harbor.”

“Why does Netflix always want me to watch Leaving Las Vegas? Is it trying to tell me something?”

“That basset hound could benefit from a juice cleanse.”

“Twilight is only the greatest love story since Shakespeare… in Love!”

“I needed that sage to cleanse the house of evil spirits. Ghosts are obsessed with me.”

“Do I really need to tell you to not take a pill from off the bathroom floor?!”

“I’m not going to listen to you. You talk silly.”

“I’m half of him so I am half of what you hate!”

“I’m glad you stood up to me because when the Cossack’s come, I know you’ll survive!”

“I want to melt into the chair like a butter lady.”

“Get realsies with me or I’m outskies.”

“Thanks for showing my boyfriend your cervix.”

“Charm and wit is a weird name for your boobs.”

“Where am I? Who am I? Am I in the Matrix? Am I Neo?”

“If you can’t even send me a whole word, then I’m not taking my clothes off for you. At least send an emoji. A chipmunk eating a block of cheese. I get that. I’m coming over.”

“Be the boat. Don’t be the hole. Nobody likes the hole.”

“Oh, you know what people say. One person’s blackmail is another person’s love story.”

“Okay, you can sleep at the foot of my bed tonight. Like a dog. …. Please don’t look so excited.”

“Oh, I don’t like her. She looks like she orders everything on the side.”

“He looks like a Kennedy. But a sober one.”

“What’s a pretty, showered girl like you doing here?”

“I think my life is a giant turd.”

“Why doesn’t he love me? Why doesn’t anyone love me? Why am I so alone?”

“I don’t want to say I don’t like anyone as much as you … but I just said it.”

“Love does not last in my life. I’m loveless.”

“I want to haunt Hitler and make him rethink a few things.”

“She’s not just a kid! She’s your daughter, you ass!”

“Oh, come on! Let’s make bad decisions together! We could run into traffic!”

“I’m not a sourpuss. I’m pensive and deep.”

“Are we being pleasant now? Sorry. I don’t know your rules.”

“He has the flat top of a Greek God.”

“If it were any other situation, I would take off my heels, my earrings and my extensions and curb stomp you.”

“Chasing someone who isn’t into you is a terrible move.”

“You have been Single White Female-ing me since you got here.”

“I have, like, the smartest face here.”

“Boo work and life and clothing.”

“You need to realize that ‘U up?’ is text speak for ‘are you horny?’.”

“You gotta force love, everyone knows that.”

“You weirdo face, put me down!”

“You just scooped me up like a basket of muffins…— PUT ME DOWN!”

“Why is he always talking about his theater major?! I know a lot of theater majors! They don’t talk about it! They just are!”

“I appreciate you Schwarzenegger-ing out back there.”

#sentence meme #sentence starter #crazy ex girlfriend #I PICKED AND CHOSE SOME NEW QUOTES #i just #yeah i hope this is better

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writtenfangirl · 3 years ago

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Hot Chocolate Nights

An Avengers Fic

I don’t really want to say that it’s a Bucky fic since I see Y/N and him as more platonic than love interests but if you prefer it to be a romantic relationship, go ahead!

I wrote and finished this at 2 in the morning. I tried to make it more bearable but honestly, I think it’s beyond saving. It’s a waste of effort not to post it though so here.

Requests are open!

TW: The darkness/voices are euphemisms for depression, Y/N is an insomniac, instances where world destruction and violence are mentioned.

When you’re an Avenger, there are certain responsibilities that the world expected from you, one of which was being a protector. The person the world could call on when they experience a disaster that they couldn’t face without their help. The Avengers are, after all, a group of remarkable people and this was the sole reason why they were created.

Watching Nat, Steve, Tony, Thor and the rest of the other Avengers in action – yes, Y/N found that it fit them, being called protectors. That was who they are at their very core. Steve would jump in front of a speeding bullet to protect a child; Nat would run in straight lines rather than zigzags if she was being shot at, if only to avoid civilian casualties; Tony would sooner protect Pepper by casting his suit towards her rather than himself if it meant that she would be safe. They were, at the very core, protectors.

Perhaps that’s why Y/N felt like she didn’t quite belong. She wasn’t a protector, she was the person the Avengers should be protecting the world from.

It was silly, really. Even now, after a full year of working with the Avengers, she still couldn’t fathom what possessed the team to try and turn her into a hero.

Wanda and Pietro? She could understand that. Sure, they’ve done some deplorable things but they did it in anger and though it doesn’t quite justify their actions, Y/N saw them easily fitting in with the team. At their very core, Wanda and Pietro were good.

Y/N couldn’t relate to that. She wasn’t good. She was anything but good.

When the Avengers had rescued her from Hydra, she was sure that they would kill her. She would have, if she was in their position. She was a freak, after all. A weirdo with abilities that shouldn’t exist on this Earth. A power that was no match for anyone, not even Wanda.

She was autopotent. She had complete and limitless control over herself, which brought her closer to the status of a god rather than a human being.

If she wanted, she could give herself the ability to shape shift or the ability to alter reality. One thought and she could have fire dancing at her fingertips or give herself the ability to plunge the world in darkness. Her limitless power could end worlds just as easily as she could create them. She had no limit, no end. She was Eternity and she was infinite.

She hated it and she hated Hydra for turning her into this.

She’s tried to purge herself of her powers several times in the past and some of the attempts had even caused her to accidentally end her own life but nothing she did worked. She’d wake up the next day just as powerful as ever. Her abilities clung to her like tar, unwilling to give up the powerful vessel they inhabited.

She thought she could live with the power and that, perhaps, it may even be a good thing. After all, power over oneself? Most people would kill for that. Except, she doubted they’d end a life if they found out that with her power came the horrible, evil voices that refused to leave her alone.

They whispered to her every day, flooding her mind with horrible images. Her friends dead at her feet, blood pooling from their eyes, the world laid to waste, fire and destruction enveloping the world, erasing the greenery and the life and plunging the world in darkness.

She could ignore it easily enough when she was surrounded by her friends. Sam and Bucky’s banter often made her laugh and her laughter deafened her ears to the whispering darkness; physical training with Steve, Nat and Clint often left her ears ringing and her mind too tired to take notice of the darkness; playing video games with Thor, Loki and Peter helped her to ignore the whispers; experimentation with Bruce and Tony and even movie marathons with Wanda and Vision made the darkness disappear. They couldn’t touch her when she was happy and with her friends, not when she was so full of life and light.

But when she was alone, when the sun has faded and her hunger was satiated, when she was isolated and by herself, that is when the whispers began to scream.

Tonight, they were loud, unbearably so. Image after image of destruction flooded her mind. Every blink she made was agony, images of her dead friends searing across her eyelids.

These are what will come to pass, the voices said. Let destruction rain on humanity and welcome death’s embrace.

She almost wanted to cry. She wishes she could tell her friends what was going on with her but she couldn’t burden them with these. They had enough on their plate as it is.

She sighed and sat at the edge of her bed. It was clear that sleep would not come to her tonight as it rarely came to her at all.

Let go of your rage and fury. Let destruction rain.

She ignored the voices and trudged out of her room. The voices followed her out like a dark, fetid breeze but she’s found that when she was in motion, it was easier to ignore the voices.

She was quiet, her slippers in her hand as she shuffled around the compound in her bare feet. When she was out of the sleeping quarters, she placed her fluffy slippers by her feet, wore them and walked. She passed the dining room, the living room, the sitting room and the elevators before she finally arrived in the dark, empty kitchen.

“Friday, do you think you can turn the lights on?” She said into the emptiness, her voice quiet, only a step above a whisper. She was afraid to shatter the stillness in the compound and though she knew she could make as much noise as she wanted without fear of waking any of her friends because of how far the kitchen was from the sleeping quarters, she was afraid that saying anything too loud would seem like an invitation to the darkness.

The lights turned on and Y/N stood there for a moment, her eyes adjusting to the light. When her eyes adjusted, Y/N shuffled towards the pantry. She pulled the door open and the light above her came to light, illuminating the space. The space was large, as most things were when Tony created them. There was enough food in here to last them at least a year, even if they ate three square meals a day at the compound. A variety of snacks and chips lined the wall as well as canned goods, loaves of bread and packs of powdered drinks. There was even a wall dedicated for coffee syrups for when the Avengers had gotten into a whole boba phase and Tony had attempted to create some for the team. It didn’t end very well.

She smiled against the memory and for a moment, the voices quieted themselves as warmth and joy flooded her. The feeling was fleeting and soon, the voices returned.

You are a god in a sea of mortals. End their lives claim your power.

She grabbed a random pack of instant noodles with one hand and on the other hand, she grabbed the open canister of cocoa powder.

“Did you find everything you needed, Ms. Y/L/N?” Friday asked her as she closed the pantry’s door behind her.

“I did, yes. Thank you, Friday,” Y/N said with a soft smile.

She opened one of the cupboards and with a wave of her hand, two pots floated from the cupboard and towards the waiting stove. Another wave of her hand and water flowed from the sink and towards the two waiting pots. A thought had the fire roiling beneath the pots.

Fire shall cleanse the world and purify it. Destruction is imminent.

She walked towards the refrigerator and took out the carton of milk, a small can of condensed milk and a single egg.

You are power, life and death itself. The Avengers are but a limitation you placed upon yourself. End them and let yourself reign.

She let the monotony of her actions drive her, center her. They helped to drown the voices out, and so she carefully studied each of her actions as she went through the motions, almost like she narrated them in her head.

When the water turned into a roiling boil, Y/N placed the uncooked noodles and its seasoning in one pot while she lowered the heat of the other and added tablespoon after tablespoon of the cocoa powder. She added the milk and a touch of the condensed milk and a sprinkle of cinnamon before she turned the heat off and poured the dark liquid on her favorite mug. She frowned when she realize that she’s made too much hot cocoa. She added the egg on the other pot and instead of transferring its cooked contents into a bowl, she simply took a pair of chopsticks from one of the drawers and waved her hand, the pot and mug following her as she walked towards the empty kitchen island.

The smell of the noodles wafted through her nose, causing her mouth to salivate. As she took the chopsticks and raised the noodles to her lips, she heard a set of shuffling footsteps and, strangely enough, Bucky walked in wearing a simple pair of boxer shorts and a black t-shirt. His short, fluffy, hair stuck up at odd angles, which made it obvious that he’s just rolled out of bed. His eyes were shut against the sudden bright light of the kitchen, his metal arm hiding his face in shadow as he waited for his eyes ro adjust. When it did, he regarded her curiously. “Y/N? What are you doing so early in the morning?”

She looked comical with noodles hanging from her mouth, her chopstick raised in midair. She slurped the noodles in the most unladylike way possible and covered her mouth with her hand before she answered Bucky, who was looked at her with an amused expression. “I’m eating.” The words came out garbled because of the food in her but Bucky understood her nonetheless.

“I can see that,” He said with a smile as he walked towards her. “Is that hot chocolate?” He pointed to her mug.

She swallowed her noodles as she nodded. “Yeah. I made extra if you want some.”

An image flashed across her mind, Bucky dead on the floor, his body a mangled mess of injuries. She pushed the image away.

He took a mug from one of the cupboard, filled it with the hot chocolate and raised it to his lips. A look of pleasant surprised graced his features as the flavors of the chocolate filled his mouth. “Wow. This is really good.”

Y/N gave him a smile, his compliment warming her body and silencing the whispers, if only a little. “Thanks. I’d give you the recipe but it’s a secret.”

“Well you are full of secrets,” Bucky laughed as she took the seat next to her on the kitchen island. “Eating out of the pot, I see.”

“I don’t like doing dishes,” she said with a wrinkle of her nose.

“I don’t either.”

Y/N slurped some of her noodles, this time in a smaller quantity to make it easier for her to chew and swallow it. “Do you want some?”

“Sure.”

Kill him and end his ceaseless suffering.

She handed the chopsticks towards Bucky’s awaiting hand and watched him slurp some of the noodles down.

“So what are you doing up this early?” Bucky asked her when he handed the pot back to her.

“I haven’t really gone to bed yet,” she shrugged. “Couldn’t really sleep. You?”

“Same.” Bucky said with a tight smile. “Nightmares.”

Y/N gave him an understanding smile. She may not understand what it’s like to have nightmares but she understood torment. She experienced it everyday. And though Bucky’s torment came in a different form, suffering was something they shared.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Y/N asked gently.

“Nothing really to talk about. It’s the same old nightmares about Hydra. How about you? Do you experience insomnia often?”

Y/N gave him a rueful smile. “Everyday.”

“You don’t really seem tired.”

She waved her fingers and sparkles of magic fell from her fingers. They disappeared before they reached the floor.

“Right. Superpowers,” Bucky chuckled.

Y/N took a big bite of the noodles and handed the pot back to Bucky who did the same.

“I’m guessing your nightmares are about Hydra?”

Bucky stared at her intently. For a moment, Y/N thought she may have intruded and offended him by the callousness of the question but he smiled at her and her worries eased.

“Yeah. They can’t seem to get out of my head,” he replied. “It’s mostly about my missions though. The people I’ve…” he trailed off and Y/N instantly understood the shame that lodged in his throat, stopping the words from coming out.

A killer. He doesn’t deserve to live.

She gave the supersoldier a reassuring smile. “I get insomnia because of the voices.”

Bucky’s attention snapped at her in surprise. “Voices?”

“I’m not crazy,” Y/N added hastily before Bucky could say anything. “No need to call Bruce on me. I just… the voices, they come with the territory. I think it’s because of Hydra. Some kind of psychological experiment they were trying on me. The scientists in charge of me died before they could finish the job and the Team rescued me soon after. The voices tell me to do these terrible, awful things and they show me horrible images. It’s why I can’t sleep at night. It’s exhausting to push them away.”

“You haven’t tried to use your powers to make them go away?”

“I have. Believe me, I have. They go away but they always managed to find their way back to me.”

Kill him and let blood rain. We are your only true friends.

“You should tell someone,” Bucky said softly. “Maybe Bruce can find a way to—“

“Bucky, if I can’t fix it, no one can.” She said the words gently, like she was the on reassuring him. “This is just my reality. There’s no changing it anymore. I just have to learn to live with it.”

“Do you spend all your nights like this? Drinking hot chocolate and eating ramen?”

“Sometimes, it’s ice cream,” Y/N said with a chuckle. “Or chips or leftover food we had for dinner. Sometimes I bake. The hot cocoa always stays though.”

“Is that why our kitchen always smells like chocolate chip cookies?”

Y/N nodded eagerly and Bucky let out a loud laugh.

“Steve and I always wonder why our kitchen smells so good in the morning,” Bucky smiled, or what looked like the ghost of it. Something about the way Bucky smiled often reminded Y/N of a promise. A slight lilt at edge of his lips, his eyes alighting just a tad, almost like he was teasing you, daring you to ask him to smile. “And you spent your time alone? What do you do all these hours?”

“Lots of things. Sometimes I read. I can go through an entire book in one sitting. Sometimes, after I eat, I train my magic or my fighting skills. Other times, I go out on a run.”

“Alone?”

“Alone. Always alone.”

Bucky stared at her, his face unreadable. He let the words settle on his skin, let it echo and rattle in his head.

Alone.

Always alone.

Not truly alone.

A lonely existence. It was awful, Y/N had to admit. She lived in a building full of people and yet she was always lonely. Somehow, Y/N knew that this was a premise to the rest of her existence. She didn’t know why has these abilities or how she even got them. And some part of her knew that she was probably immortal and that she would live a lonely, wretched life until the Earth turned into dust, most likely by her hand, by her limitless power.

“Well with the exception of Friday,” Y/N joked.

There was a hum as Friday powered up at the sound of her name. “Happy to be of service, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“But this night—“ she gestured with her hands “— it’s my first night with someone else. I have to be admit, it’s nice. I like your company, Barnes.”

Bucky matched her smile and she found the simple gesture warming her insides faster than the hot cocoa. “I like your company too.”

Conversation ebbed and flowed easily between them, the voices fading into a dull sound and the edges of her mind. Soon the ramen was finished and their cups drained to the bottom but that didn’t stop Y/N and Bucky. A bond had formed between them, a silent understanding. Though their circumstances were different, there was always something about torment and shared trauma that bound people together.

They talked about the years they spent in Hydra, memories that they remembered from their previous lives and who they were before they were taken. They talked about the team, the little habits that the Avengers had that annoyed them, the things they loved about them. They talked about anything and everything and they only stopped when the sun’s golden fingers reached across the sky, alighting the once dark canvas into shades of pink and purple.

The next night was the same. Voices, her vision edged by darkness.

Slaughter them. Kill them. Reclaim your right as ruler of the world.

She waited until she was sure that the whole house was asleep before grabbing her slippers and padding out of her room and straight into the kitchen. After taking the opened box of hot cocoa and she went through the motions of creating her signature hot chocolate and this time made sure to create enough for four people. Last night, Bucky had mentioned that he’d like to have some of it again and perhaps even share a cup of it with Steve and Sam.

Tonight, she decided that she would bake.

They all deserve to die. They are ants, mere insects in your presence. End their petty existence and take your place.

With a wave of her hand, bowls, measuring spoons and cups and ingredients floated all around her before finding their way on top of the kitchen counter. Another wave had a cookbook flying towards her, opening at the page for creating brownies. It levitated a few inches off the ground, as though propped up by invisible hands.

An image flash in her head. Her friends laying under the rubble of the compound, their eyes open but glassy, crushed under the weight of the cement. She pushed the thought away.

She was just about to crack and egg over a bowl when she heard the shuffling of feet. Several feet actually. Her attention turned towards the door where she found the Avengers piling into the kitchen, all dressed in pajamas, with Bucky leading the group.

“Guys,” Y/N said in disbelief. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you all be in bed?”

They mean to disrespect you. They deserve to perish.

“We could ask you the same thing,” Nat said with a smirk.

“Barnes here said you made a mean hot chocolate and I for one would love to try it,” Tony said as he circled around the kitchen. He reached for her still steaming mug. “This it?” Before she could even reply, he’d raised it to his lips.

Y/N gaze snapped to Bucky and he gave her a sheepish smile.

End them. Kill them. They mean to offend you.

“That is good,” Tony said after a loud sip. “Oh that is really good. You guys have got to try this.”

Tony passed the mug to Nat who took a small sip. She closed her eyes, a happy and content look on her face. “That is amazing.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said, almost in astonishment. She couldn’t even bring herself to be upset that Tony had stolen her chocolate. “I didn’t make enough for all of us though. You’ll have to wait if you all want some.”

“That’s alright,” Steve said, taking a seat on one of the vacant chairs on the island. The other Avengers followed suit, taking their own seats, filling up the counter like customers in a diner. “We can wait. We’ll even help you.”

They deserve nothing but death.

“It’s my secret recipe,” she said sheepishly, unable to contain her blossoming smile. “You all sit there. I’ll make it.” And so she got more cartons of milk and more condensed milk and more cinnamon powder and even more cocoa powder. She even got some cacao nibs from the pantry, to add a little something extra to the hot chocolate.

“Are you baking something?” Wanda asked from where she sat, peering at the still floating pages of the open cookbooks.

“Brownies,” she answered as she whisked the chocolate.

“What are brownies?” Thor asked them curiously.

“You’ve never had brownies, Mr. Thor?” Peter asked in surprise as he entered the kitchen.

You are darkness, eternal. You are the life of the universe. They are nothing.

“Kid,” Tony said with a sigh as he ran a disappointed hand over his face. “You have school tomorrow. You should be in bed. What are you doing here?”

“Mr. Bucky Barnes said that there was a team meeting…” Peter’s sentence trailed off, suddenly unsure.

“At 2 in the morning?” Sam asked with raised eyebrows. “C’mon, kid. This is an adults only meeting. Come back when you can grow a beard.”

“Stop bullying him,” Y/N laughed from where she stood, stirring the chocolate to make sure that the nibs were broken down. “He can stay.”

“T-thank you, Ms. Y/L/N,” Peter stuttered taking the last vacant seat.

“Do you need help with the brownies?” Wanda asked. “We’d love to help.”

Y/N smiled. “Sure. You guys can get it started.”

“What are brownies?” Thor repeated.

“They are baked goods, I believe. Created out of chocolate and flour and eggs. The internet often gets into debates about which pieces are the best.” Vision replied.

Easy conversation soon echoed around the room, followed by the sound of clinking glass bowls and spatulas and spoons scraping and mixing batters. It replaced the quiet that Y/N has come to associate with the kitchen. She smiled as she heard the team chatting amongst themselves and she could feel her heart swell with love.

She saw Bucky approach her and he helped her fill the mugs she had set in place.

“You didn’t have to do this for me, you know,” Y/N said with a smile.

“I wanted to,” Bucky smiled. There it was again, that promising smile. “You need to know that you are not alone. Not when you’re with us.”

Y/N stared at him. She noted the openness in his face, at his languid posture and his promise of a smile. He continued to fill up the mugs, oblivious to her stare.

Y/N held his metal hand stopping him from scooping the last bits of chocolate. He looked at her in surprise and she said in a quiet voice so that the others couldn’t hear, “Thank you.”

Y/N watched as Bucky’s smile widened from a promise to a promise accomplished, a resolute feeling that could only be appreciated in the certainty of fulfillment.

Y/N knew she would tuck this memory away forever, frame it in the deep recess of her mind. This was one of the few times she felt truly loved, surrounded by her friends, her family. Never has she felt such a strong feeling of affection and contentment, never has the voices been silenced and stayed silent.

She knew they would come back, as was inevitable. When the plates where washed and the laughter has ceased and her friends had returned to their respective rooms, she knew the voices would return. But worrying about the future only served to take away the peace of now.

So, she shook the thoughts away from her head and served the hot chocolate and, with some help from her friends, laughed the night away.

148 notes · View notes

five-rivers · 4 years ago

Text

Hobbies

Phic phight! @idiot-cheesehead-archenemy

A series of vignettes about Danny having various hobbies.

(Master the Orb)

Danny exhaled slowly as the ice built up between his hands. Each new layer glittered in the ghostlight cast by the overhead ambient ectoplasm, embedding complex patterns in the overall piece as new layers built up over it.

“Very good, Great One,” rumbled Frostbite behind his shoulder. “Your control has improved immensely.”

Danny inhaled equally slowly, examining his work so far but not adding to it quite yet. “I don’t know. It looks a little lopsided.”

“Mmm, it looks fine to me. Especially for such an early attempt.”

Danny sighed, exhaling the ice he had built up with his breath. “So, it is lopsided.”

“Consider it practice,” said Frostbite, encouragingly. “It takes time to master art of any kind.”

“Humans do ice sculpture, too,” mumbled Danny. “They get really good, too. I’ve seen pictures. And videos. They don’t even have ice powers.” He rubbed his thumb over the surface, smoothing over a slightly rougher patch.

“That may be true,” said Frostbite, “but, again, you just started, Great One. You have only had your powers for a little while. Give yourself some support.”

Danny shrugged. “I guess it isn’t something my life depends on, so I can relax about it.” He built up another layer of ice. “This is oddly therapeutic, and I don’t say therapeutic lightly. You know Jazz.”

“I do indeed,” said Frostbite, somewhat ruefully, head half-bowed.

Jazz could be a force of nature, even more so than ice powers.

He held the ice orb up to the light. It caught on the patterns he had placed there. Fractals were the easiest. He was hoping that if he got better, he’d be able to make real sculptures with patterns in them, instead of just orbs.

But, first, he had to master the orb. Just like how when drawing you had to do circles first. Circle. Orb.

Ooorb. Yep.

The controlled application of ice. The evenness of the internal patterns. The solidity, density, and durability.

His orb was… not very orblike, despite what Frostbite said. Frostbite probably thought he was making so flat on purpose.

Yeah. He was terrible at this.

He was having fun, though.

(Furnace)

“You’re taking up glass blowing?” asked Tucker, surprised.

“Yeah? Is there a problem?” asked Danny, reaching over to stop his friend from accidentally drawing a line of orange sharpie across his poster on the themes in Macbeth.

“No!” said Tucker, quickly. “But, like, why? It just seems… unlike you.”

“Exactly,” said Danny, nodding sharply. “It has absolutely nothing to do with my powers and nothing to do with my family. Plus, I had a coupon.”

“For glass blowing?”

“It was a groupon,” said Danny. “For making Christmas tree ornaments. I’m going to do it with Jazz.”

“But, Danny,” said Sam, looking over from where she was working on her own poster about Twelfth Night, “glass blowing, uh, involves a lot of heat.”

“Sure?”

“Danny, you have an ice core.”

“Ah,” said Danny. “Well. I’ve got to use that groupon. If it doesn’t work out, it’s only the once, right?”

“Oh my gosh,” said Danny, wringing sweat out of his t-shirt. “That was awesome!” He giggled to himself and peaked into the annealer again. “So awesome!”

“Uh huh,” said Jazz. Her attempts had been… rather less successful than Danny’s, partially because she was trying so hard to make them perfect. But she had managed a few little baubles, nonetheless. “I think these’ll all be good for the tree. Assuming we get one.”

“And it isn’t set on fire.”

“Oh, yeah, that was a bad year.”

He squeaked open the annealer again, only closing it when the instructor lightly scolded him. “They’re so terrible and lopsided,” said Danny.

“Hey,” said Jazz. “Mine are fine.”

“I know! I was talking about mine.”

“Ah, okay then. I agree.”

“You aren’t supposed to agree.”

“What, you want me to lie? And after you said it first?”

“No,” said Danny. “But you could be nicer about it.”

“I’m your sister, what do you expect?”

(Lung Capacity)

Danny let the last note trail off to complete silence. He stared apprehensively at the assembled student body. Curse Mr. Lancer’s extra credit talent show assignment. Any minute now, they’d start laughing at him.

What was he thinking? He’d just watched a few YouTube tutorials on breath control, and he thought he could come up here and sing in front of people? He was a moron, and—

Sam and Tucker started cheering wildly, followed rapidly by everyone else in the gym.

Okay. What?

Sam and Tucker, following impulses known only to overexcited teenagers, swarmed up the stage and attacking Danny.

“Why didn’t you tell us you could sing like that?” demanded Sam.

“When did you learn?” asked Tucker, doing his level best to noogie Danny. “Why did you learn?”

“I wanted to improve my, you know, wail,” muttered Danny, “and all the breath control YouTube videos either had to do with diving or singing, so…” He did a little head wiggle to illustrate his point and also dislodge Tucker.

“I just can’t believe you kept this a secret from us,” said Sam.

Danny snorted and took a sort of half bow before attempting to leave the stage. “My dudes, I am basically made of secrets.”

“Encore!” screamed someone who clearly hated him.

“Oh, no,” said Danny, bracing himself against Sam and Tucker who were pushing him back into the middle of the stage. “No encore. I don’t do encores.”

But now people were chanting. Chanting.

“Come on, Danny,” said Tucker. “Just once!”

“Yeah, these are your fifteen minutes of fame!”

“I had those already! Multiple times!”

“That was Poindexter.”

“And now it can be you.”

Danny reluctantly took the microphone back off the stand.

(Letterhead)

The ink was thick, almost creamy, and paint-like. It was the ectoplasm mix, which also gave it a rich, rosy glow.

Danny was practicing ghost calligraphy. Well, one particular subset of ghost calligraphy, one which put special emphasis on the color of the letters as well as how they fit together.

It was a totally useless hobby. But it was… not exactly calming. No. He’d gotten way too angry about poorly formed arcs and crooked lines a couple of times. So. Yeah. Not calming. But… meditative. Meditative. And there was something satisfying about seeing the finished product.

Plus, if he framed his better finished work, they made for good presents for weirdo ghosts.

“You misspelled this,” drawled Ghost Writer.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Keuwii only has one kei.”

“This is only one kei.”

“What’s this, then?”

“It’s a flourish.”

“A flourish.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s a critic. If you don’t want it—”

“I didn’t say that.”

Danny raised an eyebrow.

Ghost Writer made a show of rolling his eyes. “Very well. Do you have one for my half-brother Randy. Perhaps one that says something along the lines of ‘idiot?’”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

(Babies on Fire)

“Danny,” said Jazz. “What are you doing up at three in the morning with a lighter? And… yarn? Is that yarn?”

“Dad wanted me to learn how to sew,” said Danny, “but I don’t like needles, not the sharp ones, anyway.”

“You get stitches every other week,” pointed out Jazz.

“Exactly,” said Danny, gesturing with the lighter. “So, I decided to look into, you know, knitting. And I was on knitting websites, and having, you know, a pretty good time with that, but then I found out about the babies.”

“The babies.”

“The babies,” said Danny, seriously. “And the blankets that are on fire. It depends on the yarn, you see. If the yarn is the wrong kind of yarn, if it catches on fire, the blanket can melt onto the baby. It’s terrible. Just terrible.”

“I kind of think that if the blanket is on fire you have bigger problems,” said Jazz. She took a step closer to her obviously insane younger brother. “Are you… testing the yarn?”

“I have to, Jazz. It’s for the babies.”

“Alright,” said Jazz. “You are going to limit it to just the yarn in our house, right?”

“But we don’t have any babies.”

“Okay, that didn’t answer my question, but, like…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Since we don’t have any babies here, why are you testing the yarn?”

“Because we might have babies here in the future,” said Danny. “Or I might knit something and give it to someone as a gift and then they give it to their baby. Oh my gosh, I’d feel so guilty.”

“I’d be more worried about the toxic waste in our basement,” said Jazz, which was exactly the wrong thing to say to a sleep-deprived half-ghost on the edge of an Obsession-fueled breakdown. Danny vanished in a blur, trailing yarn behind him. Jazz, who had only gotten up for a glass of water, cursed under her breath.

(Before the Ball)

“I’m so, so sorry, Dora,” said Danny, holding back something adjacent to laughter.

Dora laughed, more openly. “It is fine, Sir Phantom. Even now, you are better than my brother.”

“Am I really? Your brother? Who was raised to do this?”

“Well,” said Dora, letting go and stepping back out of the range of Danny’s feet. Which were, evidently, both left feet. “No, I’m afraid, but it is amusing to say, isn’t it?” She pressed her fingers to her lips, suppressing more laughter.

“Yeah, it is,” admitted Danny.

“In any case, you are far more graceful concerning your mistakes than he ever was. More gallant. A better representative of chivalry altogether.” She patted the shoulders of his shirt.

“Thanks,” said Danny. “Do you think that I’ll be, uh, ready in time for the party?”

“It’s more than a party,” said Dora. “You’re being officially knighted. You’ll be a peer of the realm.”

“Aha,” said Danny. “Yeah. I don’t… what? Really? That’s a thing?”

“You thought I was joking?”

“No,” said Danny, drawing out the word. He had, in fact, thought she was joking and only accepted her offer to teach him how to dance because he thought it sounded like fun and like it might take his mind off his problems. “Of course not. So. Dancing. Important. For first impressions?”

“Everyone already knows you, Phantom,” said the knight assigned as Dora’s bodyguard. “But dancing is surprisingly useful for swordplay. Which you need all the help you can get at.”

“You said I was getting better.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re good.”

“Ouch.”

(Time)

“I don’t have time for a hobby,” complained Danny through the Fenton Phones. “Maybe if the ghosts let up a bit—” He zapped one of said ghosts.

“Danny, are you fighting ghosts right now?”

“Yeah. That’s my point.”

“Oh my god, get off the phone.”

“No way! This is the only time I can call you, what with all of your classes.”

“Danny…” said Jazz, clearly exasperated. He took advantage of the lull in the conversation to blast a few more ghosts.

“I’m fine Jazz.”

“You are not fine. You are, like, ten thousand miles away from fine. When was the last time you even slept through the night?”

“Eh,” said Danny. “Recently?”

“You need to take more time for yourself.”

Danny sighed and captured the last ghost. “Maybe catching ghosts is my hobby.”

“Catching ghosts is your self-imposed penance for doing something that isn’t even your fault. Not a hobby.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll talk to you on Wednesday, same time.”

“Danny, don’t—”

He hung up.

“Ugh,” said Danny. “I guess I need to find a hobby. Have to find time to find a hobby.”

“Perhaps I could be of help.”

“Ah!” Danny jolted forward, dropping his phone.

Clockwork gestured with one hand, and the phone dropped back into Danny’s hands from above.

“Ohhh my ghost, why are you here?”

“You were just talking about finding time. And now I’m here.”

“Good timing, I guess?”

“Only the best,” said Clockwork, evenly. “But we were speaking of hobbies. Might I suggest ice sculpture? Your friends in the Far Frozen would be more than happy to teach you...”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2021

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athenagc94 · 2 years ago

Text

MTaS Fic Chapter 5

Read the full thing on AO3 HERE

Previous | Next

One week flew by in the blink of an eye.

Owen cleaned glasses behind the bar of the saloon, though he caught his gaze drifting to Charlotte as she ate dinner with Nia and Julien. He realized he was staring like a creep, but try as he might, he couldn’t take his eyes off them—off Charlotte. He brushed his fingers over his cheek where he still felt the smooth pass of her lips over his skin.

The sight of that lipstick stain on his cheek did weird things to him. She did weird things to him.

They stayed up way too late swapping stories and with each one, he found himself falling a little deeper into whatever this feeling she left him with. It blurred the lines between what was fake and what was real and he started to worry about what would happen when they finally did break things off.

Would they have to stop talking altogether?

He hoped not.

He enjoyed her company immensely.

“Owen, are you just going to sit there and stare at your girlfriend like a weirdo, or do you wanna get your ass over here and join us?” Nia locked eyes with him and he went stock still like a prey freezing under the watchful gaze of a predator. She curled her finger to beckon him over. “You can take a break. We’re the only ones here and we don’t mind if you slack off.”

His gaze shifted to Charlotte, who pushed her half-eaten fried rice around her plate. He arched an eyebrow in silent question. She nodded to the open seat next to her and that was all the invitation he needed.

It was a snug fit with the two of them squeezed into one side of the booth, but Charlotte didn’t seem to mind their proximity. Owen, on the other hand, was all too aware of all the places they touched.

“So, how’d y’all enjoy your stay in Sandrock?” Owen was surprised he could maintain a conversational tone at all. He felt like his body had caught fire, the point of origin being where his arm made contact with Charlotte’s. “This is your last night here, right?”

Nia vibrated in her seat. “Actually, we’re glad you asked about that.”

His expression faltered. He didn’t like where this was going. Charlotte looked up from her plate. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I was just so touched with what you did for Sandrock, Owen,” Nia said in earnest, “I had so much fun at the dance competition, but I was even more moved to see the town come together to support each other. It really got me thinking.”

“And when she starts thinking, it’s never good,” Julien deadpanned.

His hand slipped over hers as he gazed at Nia with a touch of fondness. It was the most emotion he’d seen on his face since they arrived—aside from his usual disdain or boredom, that is. Charlotte’s grip on her fork tightened with the muscle in her jaw. Owen draped his arm along the back of the booth and brushed his fingers over the slope of her shoulder. It was such a small gesture, but it seemed to do the trick. Her grip loosened on the fork.

“I know you were only joking about me writing a story on Sandrock, but I actually think I should,” Nia blurted out, “I think the community is what makes this town something special, but if they’re still here, they must see something in it, right? With you taking photos and my writing, we could show the rest of the Free Cities what they’re missing out on.”

Charlotte’s brow pitched. “Oh, so you want me to send some photos back with you?”

“Why waste the money on postage?” She flicked a braid over her shoulder. “Jules and I talked it over and we want to stay a little while longer so I can experience Sandrock firsthand.”

She looked like she might faint. “O-Oh?”

“I’d be willing to lend a hand on the building front,” Julien offered, “I know you and the dark-haired gal have been working around the clock to finish that piece for the farm. It must be hard doing the work of a dozen builders.” He motioned to himself. “You could use a seasoned pro like me to get back on top of things, I’m sure.”

Owen hid his irritation with a mild-mannered sniff. “Mi-an and Lottie are doin’ just fine. Best builders I’ve seen this side of the Free Cities.”

“I’m not saying they aren’t.” His smile tightened at the not-so-subtle sleight against him. Clearly, he liked to think he was the best around. “But if we’re going to stay anyway. I might as well make myself useful while Nia drafts her article for the Harold.”

His tone suggested it had not been his choice to stay, nor did he necessarily want to. Well, at least they agreed on that. He liked Nia well enough, but Julien rubbed him the wrong way.

Charlotte swallowed hard. “How long do you guys want to stay exactly?”

“A month, maybe two?” Nia said, “It all depends on my creative flow. You know how it is.”

Owen blanched. Could they even keep up the charade for that long? Could Charlotte? A week seemed like too much for her to handle already. Could she take another month with these two? He checked and found her face had gone completely blank—not a thought in those eyes.

That seemed to answer his question.

“Isn’t that great though?” Nia gushed, “It’ll be just like old times, just with a lot more sand and double dates! You’ll have to show us everything this town has to offer so I can get material for my piece. Maybe I can do an exposé on romantic destinations.”

“Well, I’ll be honest, there ain’t much to do in the winter,” Owen admitted though it pained him to do so. He hated talking ill about his hometown, but it was the truth. The winter wasn’t the best time for them. Their first brush with a sandstorm would have these city-slickers scrambling for the next train back to Highwind.

That shook Charlotte from her daze. “That’s right,” she may have sounded a tad too eager, “Maybe you could come back in the summer when we’ve got a little more—”

Nia wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, we both know how I feel about hot weather. I’m sure we can gather enough for a good article regardless of the season.” She leaned across the table. “Unless, this is your way of trying to get rid of us.”

Charlotte shook her head fervently. “We’re not. Honest. I just don’t—”

“I’m only joking,” Nia chuckled, “Light, you’re so serious these days. Don’t tell me the deserts hardened you that much. I know we said we only planned to stay a week and I’m sure you want to get back to exploring this new relationship.” She shot Owen a wink and he tried not to dwell on what she was implying.

Not unless he wanted to make this dinner super awkward.

“But don’t let us stop you,” Nia continued without missing a beat, “We know what it’s like to be a new couple. Isn’t that right, hon?”

Julien hummed his agreement. “We can entertain ourselves, so don’t feel like you need to hang out with us all the time.” Owen didn’t plan on it. “I find the first few months of dating to be the most magical.” He and Nia shared a knowing look and he tried to scrub that mental image from his mind.

Her eyes sparkled. “Oh yeah, this one time, Julien and I learned how flexible he is, if you know what I mean.”

“Gross,” Charlotte mumbled, “I’m still eating.” She wasn’t, but no one corrected her.

Nia stuck out her tongue. “You’re almost thirty. We can talk about sex like adults without it being weird.”

Owen did a double take. “Wait, you’re almost thirty?”

She peered up at him curiously. “Yeah? I’ll turn thirty this spring. How old did you think I was?”

Well, now he was embarrassed to say anything. The company she kept suggested she was much younger. Arvio and Elsie had just turned eighteen. Mi-an couldn’t be much older than them so he just assumed Charlotte fell around that age bracket as well. That made this whole thing between them sit a little easier in his stomach being on the better side of thirty himself.

“Don’t worry about it,” he grunted.

She narrowed her eyes and reiterated, “How old did you think I was?”

He refused to meet her gaze. “Thirty.”

“ Liar. ”

That was rich coming from her. Her eyes narrowed further as if she read his mind.

Nia cupped her cheeks and said, “Oh my Light, I just love to watch couples banter. I see why you fell for him, Lottie. He’s so cute when he blushes.”

Owen gnawed on the inside of his cheek. Nearly forty, and these kids had the gall to call him cute. He was too nice to say anything though, and everyone at the table knew it.

Charlotte took his hand and said, “Are you done teasing him? He’s got a fragile heart.” He shot her a warning look that went ignored. “Any more and he might combust from the blood rushing to his cheeks.”

“You’re not helping,” he muttered under his breath.

She gave him a look that said if she had to suffer, then so did he. He pursed his lips and nudged her with his knee. She prodded him right back with the toe of her boot. Despite his best efforts to stay stone-faced, it was hard not to smile when he looked at her. She mirrored it. She had a shallow dimple on her left cheek and it took every ounce of self restraint to keep himself from running his thumb over it.

It was moments like this where their relationship felt real.

“Could you guys stop making googly eyes at each for like five minute and help me come up with some topics for my piece.” Nia pulled a notebook from her bag. “Not that I don’t find this whole thing adorable, but we’ve got work to do.”

Charlotte turned back to her food, though it had long since gone cold. “Owen would have some good ideas,” she said softly, “He’s our resident barkeep with all the secrets.”

His expression fell as reality came crashing back around them. They were pretending. None of this was real and that made him…sad? Disappointed? He struggled to find the right word—feel the right emotion—but he knew something didn’t sit quite right with him. What might their life be like if this relationship developed organically, or would it not have happened at all?

Would he have ever seen Charlotte as more than their resident builder? Would he ever have learned that she took dance lessons until she tore her ACL at sixteen and never picked it up again, even when the doctor gave her the all clear? Or that their dance together had been the first for her in almost a decade?

Or would they have spent the rest of their lives orbiting each other, just within reach, but never quite crossing paths.

Why did the idea of never connecting like this make his chest ache? His gaze fell to her hand and he had the overwhelming urge to take it and never let go. He settled on shifting closer to her instead.

Nia uncapped her pen with her teeth and asked, “So, what would you say makes Sandrock special?”

Owen turned back to her. She stared at him expectantly, her pen hovering over the paper. Amongst all his unanswered questions, he was grateful to have one he could answer. “How long do you have?”

#my time at sandrock #mtas #mtas owen #mtas builder

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thotsforvillainrights · 4 years ago

Note

So now how about Toga, Shigaraki, twice, compress, hawks, Geten, nine, slice, chimera and mummy meeting a new member with some kind of godlike quirk, but when they meet her it turns out that she's pretty af but dumb as anything. Like literally trips head over heels, is accidentally hilarious, laughs at absolutely anything and is extremely clumsy. Like she literally is 100 times stronger than afo but she can't even remember where her house is lmao thanks

(Hope you don’t mind if I leave the reader’s orientation open ended like usual, so everyone can fit themselves in!)

~The Ditzy Goddess/God/Deity~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

~Toga~

-Not gonna lie, it confuses her at first. I mean usually when you’re so powerful, you’re vindictive right? I mean that’s what she learned from watching AFO or even when she’s just watching fictional villains in movies. So when she meets you, she’s more like...”What the hell??? Is this a side effect of the quirk?” Well all quirks should have a weakness right? Anyway, she likes you like this because it shows despite your power, you’re just a normal human being too. She also thinks your personality is pretty cute lol

~Shigaraki~

-Literally face-palms himself at you a million times a day. Like how can someone so powerful be so stupid? Take no offense to him saying this (it’s to be expected). Despite that, he does everything in his power to keep you away from AFO. If you end up being found, he at least makes sure you lie about your quirk or something (this is before Afo steals Ragdoll’s quirk btw). The reason is because Shiggy is scared master will either turn you into an unstoppable Nomu, or take your quirk and ultimately...your life. Tomura cannot let that happen, especially since he’s grown rather fond of you (fallen in love).

~Twice~

-Sees your personality and thinks nothing of it. You’re no different to him just because you could possibly take over the world if you really applied yourself. The reason why is because Jin looks at you and sees the type of person you are outside of your insane abilities. He much rather prefers watching you laugh at your own slipping in the kitchen than watching you destroy half the city. He makes sure you don’t join the league because he just doesn’t want you to be used by them. Of course he fails and you end up being the new member anyway. You have to stop him beating himself up about it and you remind him that you do what you want with your power despite anyone else’s opinions.

~Compress~

-Very impressed with you and will help you tighten up on any skills you might be lacking...which isn’t a lot to be honest. Mostly he’s really amazed at how mundane and domestic you can be. You could be halfway across the world making it rain fire on an entire region but here you are in the grocery store tapping watermelon to see which one is fresh or not. He finds it both amazing and endearing at the same time. Sako realizes the he wouldn’t want it any other way.

~Hawks~

-He loves laughing things out with you when you find silly things hilarious. He’s just about the same so you two couldn’t be anywhere serious in public because you both would be kicked out for snickering to each other lol. Keigo spends a LOT of time making sure you don’t accidently kill yourself around the house with how clumsy you can be. “I can’t believe I have to put cushions on the edge of the table because of you.” He teases while you gasp at him. “Excuse me sir, but it’s not my fault the carpet was extra slippery that day!” You two laugh it out and he’s seriously planning on making you his wife/husband/partner someday. Right now his main goal is to keep you AND your quirk out of the eye of the hero commission!

~Geten~

-Pretends like he hates it, but he absolutely makes it his life goal to be your protector. You forget a lot of shit and you’re pretty ditzy most of the time...okay, all of the time, but he loves you for it. No matter how many times you catch him rolling his eyes at you throughout the day, he still does everything for you out of love. Geten just wants to make sure you remain safe in his arms but he will NEVER admit that to you so don’t try and get him to lol. Despite all of this, he loves asking you to challenge him to a spar so he can sharpen his skills and become better. You beat him every time and of course he’s fuming, but when he looks at that perfect smile while you’re laughing at him, his heart just kinda flutters.

~Nine~

-Super worried about you in today’s society. He has a very strong quirk himself (one that’s killing him slowly as a result), so he knows how rough things can be. If your quirk doesn’t fit into the nice little box that society has created, then you’ll likely be shunned. However, he notices this isn’t the case with you. Despite having a massively powerful quirk, you seem to behave as if you don’t have one! In fact, you act as though you don’t have much of a brain either lol. He might find some peace of mind when he catches you flicking the door stop in the living room and laughing at the vibration sounds it makes. “What on Earth?” He laughs before hugging you tightly. Maybe he’s worried for nothing.

~Slice~

-She knows you probably share a braincell with like one other person but she’s okay with that. You’re like the light of her life basically. She’s not always the confident and arrogant sexy woman that she seems. Sometimes she has trouble finding motivation to get out of bed in the mornings. Thank God she has you to come in the room and bite her nose like a weirdo. You laugh and it’s contagious because now she’s sitting up in the bedroom laughing while rubbing her sore nose. You’re powerful, but you don’t flaunt it and that is perhaps one of the reasons why she adores you the most of all. You are unapologetically you, and Slice loves it!

~Chimera~

-”You’re one fry short of a happy meal, aint cha?” He says with a sigh as he watched you try to pull a door open that said ‘push’ on the handle. “Oh, whoops! haha!” He smirks to himself and shakes his head. You might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he still loves you. With so much power, he sometimes feels like it’s a waste but then he watches you try to shove an ice cube in a water bottle under the idea that ‘it’ll melt soon’ and he figures it must be for the best right? Best believe if anyone insults your intelligence beside him, he’ll kill them. He knows you’re strong enough to protect yourself but you just don’t...because you were probably too busy zoning out to notice some asshole insulted you

~Mummy~

(I think this is the first time I’ve written for him since adding him to the list. Whoooo!!!)

-He gets a little frustrated thinking about all the power you have just going to waste while you’re sitting here watering plants in the apartment and bumping into the bookshelf literally every day. He might actually end up fussing about it a little bit but if he upsets you then he’s going to apologize (mostly because he’s scared you’ll destroy him if he doesn’t). Despite this, he’s going to try and motivate you towards some for of training or villainy. It’s up to you whether or not you choose hero/villain/or civilian. Either way, he admits he still loves you even if you two don’t always see eye to eye. He can’t see himself without you!

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

Instagram: @pastelbattydraws & @pastelbattystore

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRNMJH7vHL7APNobUykhK4w?view_as=subscriber

#toga #shigaraki #twice #compress #hawks #geten #nine #slice #chimera #mummy #bnha #lov #league of villains #heroes rising

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sometimesiwrite · 3 years ago

Text

The Way It Is

Prompt: Fake Dating

Pairing: Lambert & Essi Other Characters: Julian (Jaskier), Eskel/Geralt

Rating: Teen Content Warnings: No Archive Warnings; platonic/queerplatonic dynamics; pressure to engage sexually; coarse language; alcohol/intoxication; modern AU.

Summary: When Essi and Lambert are setup on a blind date, they don’t expect to get along as well as they do. However, when they decide to keep their relationship platonic and non-romantic, they realize they might face some uncomfortable pressure. For the sake of simplicity, they decide to tell people they’re dating, but is it sustainable?

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Essi fidgeted with the bent corner of her cafe menu, looking around at the various styles of local artworks hanging on the walls. She was early by about ten minutes, but that didn’t stop her from checking the pearlescent dial of her watch every thirty seconds. Finally, the bell above the door tinkled and a man walked in. Essi could tell from the way he was looking around that he was there to meet someone—her. The only other people sitting alone in the cafe were working on laptops and tablets; no one else waiting for a date. And this man was most certainly looking for one.

He was handsome in a ruffled sort of way, though he’d clearly put in a bit of effort. His black casual dress shirt and slim light-wash jeans fit his lean frame impeccably, and a subtle quantity of mousse was clearly doing its best to tame his short, scruffy brown hair. Even his bristly beard appeared to have been trimmed recently. Though there was nothing particularly remarkable about his clothing, there was something striking about the way he carried himself, a devil-may-care sort of presence that Essi appreciated. For a blind date, she thought, it certainly could be worse. Allegedly, they knew each other, at least based on his abruptly out-of-the-blue text, and the closer she looked, the more her memory of him crystalized.

A loud ping! emitted from Essi’s phone and the man looked up from his own cellular device, clearly having just texted.

“Uh, Essi? Essi Daven, right?” He took a step towards her and leaned in, pointing to his phone screen.

“Yes,” Essi stood to shake his hand, “hi.”

“Nice to see you again. Lambert.”

They sat down awkwardly, both struggling to find the will for smalltalk.

“So…” Lambert had become keenly interested in a black-and-white digital photograph behind Essi’s shoulder.

“Listen,” Essi could feel the words start to tumble out of her mouth, and it was too late to do anything about it. Lambert raised an eyebrow, “I don’t really know how to say this, so I’m just going to be honest and probably regret it later: I don’t really do this. Dating. I find it strange and uncomfortable and if I’m perfectly honest I think I’d rather die.” She didn’t cringe apologetically, which would have been the expected behaviour to accompany an outpouring of disinterest. Instead she stared at him, wide-eyed, lips slightly pursed as a muscle in her neck twitched, waiting for his response.

Lambert laughed. Genuinely laughed—a joyful release of tension and dread, “Oh, thank Fuck!” Essi blinked in pleasant surprise and watched as Lambert began to relax.

“Excuse me?” Her startlingly blue eyes widened in amusement.

“No, no, I just mean—I would absolutely and one-hundred percent, without a doubt, rather die in a hole than date,” Lambert slotted the edge of the menu under his fingernails and let his eyes wander a little more freely around the cafe.

“So then… why?”

Hm. Direct, frank, amusing lack of filter… the memories were starting to come back from what limited, heavily inebriated, time they’d spent together.

There was something about the straightforwardness of this endearingly odd woman that made Lambert feel infinitely more comfortable. Usually, any kind of interaction with the potential of building mutual interest made him feel like he was playing a game he didn’t know the rules to. The signals, the code words that never meant what they said: having sex on the first date means you’re a slut; not having sex on the third date means you’re a prude; grabbing coffee means this; having dinner means that; if they your arm but don’t invite you up, it means that they’re actually a KGB operative and need to give you the launch codes for a super secret missile...

Fuck that, we have words for a reason. Say what you mean and don’t waste my time. For that reason alone, Essi was already scoring quite well in Lambert’s books.

He shrugged, “You somehow remembered me from the KM Christmas party almost six months ago, and still asked for my number. I figure that at least deserves a coffee and a conversation.”

Essi was bewildered, “I didn’t ask for your number, you texted me.”

Lambert shook his head, “Impossible. No offense, but I absolutely guarantee you I did not.” He produced their short text exchange and scrolled to the top of their conversation:

Hi, is this Lambert? From the KM Christmas party?

You might not remember me, we got talking about

the political situation in Kashmir after about…

Too many drinks. Eeep!

Anyway, I’d love to get a coffee sometime, if

you’re interested.

Sorry, this is Essi Daven.

You called me Goldilocks at one point and

seemed amused XD

Hope you’re well!

Essi snatched Lambert’s phone, shocked and slightly outraged as she reached for her own device, opening her thread with Lambert. The text at the top was not from her, but from the man across from her:

Yeah, hi, this is

Lambert-from-the-KM-Christmas-party.

As it happens, I remember you and our

conversation quite well. Not many folks

happily get into drunken political discussions

You know what, I wouldn’t mind grabbing a

coffee.

Let me know if you’re free in the next couple

weeks!

Lambert gestured emphatically at Essi’s phone screen, “In what world is this an acceptable way to ask someone out?! I wouldn’t have said yes to that!”

“I don’t know,” Essi fired back, “It was straightforward! I found it charming, okay? Is that a crime?”

“No, but I have some serious concerns about your taste in men.”

“Like you’re in such a fine position to judge after the hollow, paltry invitation you accepted—which I absolutely did not write, by the way. I want to make that perfectly clear.”

“Alright, alright, cool your jets, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.” Lambert narrowed his eyes as he passed Essi’s phone back to her, “You didn't fire the first shot, so who texted me from your phone and cleared the history?”

Essi nibbled the inside of her cheek, “I can think of a few.”

“Okay, next question,” Lambert pocketed his phone, “who added you to my contacts before you texted. Because we did not exchange numbers six months ago, but your name was already there when I received it.”

Essi shrugged, “Who has access to your phone?”

“I dunno. Really just Eskel and Geralt and neither of them would—”

“Geralt.”

“Why him?”

Essi’s bright blue eyes turned steely and murderous, “Julian… They’re working together.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me that Geralt the-last-thing-I-need Rivia and Julian Alfred these-aren't-my-pants Pankratz think we're so helplessly undateable that they decided to secretly set us up?”

“Eskel doesn’t know me that well; he wouldn’t try to set you up with someone he hadn’t vetted. Who did you talk to first when you got that text from me?”

Lambert’s eyes widened, “Holy shit, they’re working together.”

Essi nodded, a flood of embarrassment warming her cheeks. “Sorry to waste your time. You’re very nice but, um, I should just…” she got up to leave.

“Wh-hey, hold up. I mean, if you wanna go, go, that's fine, but there's something you might want to know first.”

Essi tossed her yellow bangs out of her eyes, “Oh? What's that?”

“This,” Lambert produced an Amex credit card from his breast pocket, “is Geralt's.” The cheeky glint in his eyes was a very convincing argument.

“Fine then. Coffee and a conversation.”

The coffee was hot and decent, and the conversation meandered through the usual topics of music, movies, and television, but also dipped into deeper waters as they grew more comfortable with each other’s company. Of course, it didn’t hurt that neither of them had any stakes in the outcome of this “date”. It made it easier to be frank and open, which in turn led to them quickly enjoying their time together. So much so that coffee turned into lunch, which turned into a long walk in the pleasant weather, which finally landed them outside Essi’s apartment, just around dinner time.

“I have to say, this was actually a pleasant encounter,” she said, turning to face him with a characteristic toss of her bangs.

“Yeah, who’d’ve thought two people forced together by meddling friends would actually find it enjoyable?”

“In light of that,” Essi squared her shoulders and found Lambert’s hazel-brown eyes, “I think it’s fair to say I want to see you again.”

He cringed regretfully and scratched the back of his head, “Ahh, yeah, so… I don’t know if that’s really--”

“Oh, relax,” Essi smirked with a casual touch to Lambert’s forearm. “I don't mean like that. I just mean--you're interesting and fun and, well I don't have many close friends and I feel like we connected well today.”

“Well…”

“I'll make it even simpler: I absolutely, one-hundred percent, am not interested in dating you.”

“Easy there, you know I love it when people get all straightforward with me.”

“I mean it, I just want to be friends,” she toyed back, trying her best to look sultry. It kind of worked.

Lambert bit his lower lip in mock arousal, “Mmm, oh yeah...”

She swayed her shoulders forward and back, doing her best to emulate the seductive actresses and models of the 1950s, “I want to Netflix and chill with a documentary about Soviet propaganda.”

Her last comment prompted a playfully stern look from her companion, “Careful now, you’re wading into actual turn-on territory.”

“You're such a weirdo,” Essi chuckled, giving him an endeared shove. “Seriously, though, would you like to do this again? Friends?”

He nodded sincerely, “Yeah, I think I'd really like that. Just one problem, though.”

“If we claim not to be interested in each other but keep hanging out we’ll never hear the end of it?”

“Bingo.”

Essi hummed thoughtfully and nibbled the inside of her bottom lip, “Well… we could always… pretend?”

***

“Sounds like you two are hitting it off. I’m glad. I know Essi’s been feeling a little isolated between work and being new to the city.” Geralt closed the fridge with his foot and headed towards the sofa, popcorn in one hand, three beers in the other. “I’ll take my card back, by the way.”

Lambert reluctantly handed the Amex back in exchange for a beer and perched on the arm of the sofa. “She’s really something. We’re, uh—yeah, hitting it off is a good word.”

And hitting it off, they were. The last ten days since their first “date” had been more enjoyable than all the dates he’d had in the last year combined. Essi was a fantastic companion: sharp, witty, kind, took no bullshit… They had done absolutely nothing but hang out, and no one had pried them for many details about the nature of their relationship. As far as their friend group was concerned, they were simply dating in the way that most adults dated. This also meant more time to themselves without unwanted interruptions (namely Julian barging in with his spare key to gossip about whatever fires were currently alight on twitter). The first night Lambert had been over, it took Julian all of five minutes to “grab something from the fridge” before parting with a knowing wink.

To her credit and imagination, Essi had expertly fielded her cousin’s initial barrage of questions when she first announced their “involvement.” It wasn’t that she didn’t like her cousin, Essi adored Julian, but she was also the first to admit that the man had no boundaries. What he lacked in that arena, he certainly made up for with opinions, which he was always more than happy to bestow on his younger cousin—usually dating advice, almost always unsolicited. Lambert had a much easier time convincing his side that he and Essi were taking it easy to see where things went. Between Eskel being a consummate gentleman and Geralt having his own Delicate Sensibilities, neither of them had demanded any details.

“As long as you’re both happy and everything’s healthy, that’s all that matters,” Geralt’s partner reiterated, reaching into the bowl on Geralt’s lap.

“Jesus, Eskel, you sound like my Nonna.”

“That's no way to talk to your father,” Geralt smirked into his hand of popcorn

“You're no better,” Lambert took a swig from his beer, lips popping as he lowered the bottle. “I swear, you've turned into a couple of mother hens since you two got together. Quit fussing and watch the game.”

Geralt put his arm around Eskel’s shoulders, “We have gotten a little soft haven’t we?”

Eskel huffed out a laugh, “Probably. Hey, Lambert, don't fuck it up or I'll kick your ass into next week.”

“Thank you. See? Was that so hard?”

“Eh,” Eskel shrugged, helping himself to another handful of popcorn, “I stand by my original statement. Geralt agrees.”

“It's true,” he said between mouthfuls. “Essi’s a good woman. Smart, talented, kind, attractive.”

Eskel cleared his throat.

“Eskel, she is, it's just a statement of fact it doesn't mean that she doesn’t have other…”

“I know it doesn't but I still think you could bear to be a little more…”

“Funny thing,” Lambert interrupted, “I still can’t figure out how this smart, talented, kind, attractive woman’s number programmed itself into my phone. Because I may have been drunk the night we first met, but I have never in my life forgotten a successful number grab. Fess up, fellas. Who was it?”

Eskel’s eyes widened, “Geralt, you didn’t.”

“I… may have… helped Julian gain access to Lambert’s phone.”

“Unbelievable. The betrayal,” Lambert shook his head, eyes still on the game. “If only there was some way to square things up…”

“You charged everything to my company card, didn’t you?”

“First two dates and a fresh pair of pants. Thanks, bud.” Geralt accepted a pat on the back as Eskel began gently but sternly berating him.

Lambert shook his head, smirking as he took another swig of beer, leaving the two lovebirds to bicker amongst themselves. His hip pocket buzzed and he checked his phone: Essi.

Next Wednesday? Pizza and a movie? Still can't believe you haven't seen Ocean’s Eleven.

Yeah, okay, fine. Jeez :P 7:30 my place? I'll provide beverages.

If by ‘beverages’ you mean watery beer…

Fuck off, I'll get the good stuff. Unless you prefer Arbor Mist or some shit.

*gasps* I am offended! (but also it's delicious)

*sigh* do you want me to get you some?

*turtles into hoodie* ...peach or cherry pls?

Haha okay, fine, I'll get a bottle. Can't promise I won't judge you forever, though ;)

It's okay, I deserve it. g2g, see you tomorrow! xox

***

Lambert groaned contentedly, massaging his stomach as he sprawled back on his aging brown sofa, long legs resting habitually on the coffee table. The now-empty pizza box lay abandoned on the far edge, accompanied by four empty beer bottles, and a nearly-empty, unfavourably warm Peach Arbor Mist. The toilet flushed and Essi emerged. Her dark gold hair had long ago been pulled into a messy bun, but her indigo skinny jeans had been replaced by soft-looking grey leggings.

Lambert shook his head in amusement as she settled back next to him on the couch, "I still can't believe you brought your own lounge pants"

"That's because I'm a genius," she quipped, crossing her legs and adjusting the height of her waistband. "Besides, when else will I have the opportunity to actually be comfortable during a date?"

"You took your bra off, too, didn't you?" Lambert asked without missing a beat, eyes never leaving the screen.

"Yup!" Essi confirmed, her sparkling blue eyes glinting with joy as she raised her glass to her lips.

The movie continued as the new friends settled into comfortable silence, their food-drowsy, alcohol-fuzzy states lulling them into a new level of comfortability around each other. Legs fell asleep, positions were adjusted, and shoulders leaned on as the two sought maximum comfort for minimum effort. Soon, an arm was around Essi's shoulder as she settled her cheek on a comfortable spot on Lambert's chest.

"You good?" Lambert asked, only half-irritated at her seemingly endless search for the perfect angle.

"I'm sorry, I thought I'd found a good spot, but..." A few more adjustments of her head and Lambert couldn't take it anymore.

"Jesus, woman, here. Get up for a sec."

Essi sat up as Lambert rearranged himself into a sort of semi-recline with one foot on the floor so his other leg could make room for the tiny pain-in-the-ass that was taking up the rest of the couch space. At his invitation, she wriggled up to the crook of his arm and quickly settled in. Lambert hadn't really thought about what they were doing. Not when Essi had harmlessly leaned against his arm; not when their weight settled into each other; not when Lambert had put his arm around her; not even as he was rearranging to get to where they were now. It had all just... happened. Now, though, with Essi lying still, Lambert felt the weight and warmth of her body shifting gently against his, and it dawned on him that this had the potential to be, well, weird.

But the strange thing was, it didn't feel weird. He'd fucking cuddled before, but there was always a sense of holding back, a tension in his body, being on the lookout for signals from the other person to move onto the Next Step. But now, he actually felt comfortable. There wasn't anything that was supposed to happen after this. Nobody was asking anything of him, no one sending signals he could pick up on but never read properly, no sinking feelings of dread as the other person moved in for a kiss that always felt too soon. Essi was just there, breathing, content. And Lambert was relaxed.

The woman half-on top of him gave a twitch as the credits started to roll, and Lambert let out a private laugh, "Hey, Sleeping Beauty, show's over."

Essi inhaled heavily through her nose and lifted herself up, "Hmmm?"

"Movie's over."

"Did I fall asleep? I'm sorry!" she sat and rubbed her eyes, taking a sip of water to rinse the stale taste from her mouth.

"Eh, only a little." Lambert exited Netflix and tossed the remote back on to the table. "Thought you might wanna start heading home before it gets too late."

Essi nodded in response as she grabbed the pizza box and brought it to the kitchen trash, leaving Lambert to bring the empties.

"You going to finish this atrocity of a beverage?" Lambert waggled the near-empty wine bottle at Essi as he passed on his way to the sink. She merely scowled and shook her head, letting him pour it down the drain 'where it belonged anyway'.

Essi gathered her things and met Lambert by his front door, checking her pockets for her phone and keys one last time before putting her shoes on.

"You okay to walk? Want me to come with?"

It was only 10:30 on a weeknight, and she appreciated the gesture all the same, but it was fine to walk. "Thanks, though. And thank you for tonight. I really needed to get out of the house. I hope, um..."

She trailed off, not sure how to ask. She didn't have the same physical boundaries that most others seemed to have. She was affectionate—often overly so, and it had led to more than a few misunderstandings in the past. She didn't want Lambert to feel as though she had ulterior motives when the simple fact of the matter was that she hadn't really been thinking. Between the instant relief of not actually being on a date and Lambert's easy manner all evening, she'd forgotten that most friendships didn’t generally involve that much physical contact. Would Lambert be confused now? Thinking they were onto something more than friendship? Had he been wanting more? Had she pushed past a point of no return and doomed their friendship?

She inhaled, "Were you comfortable tonight?"

For a split second, Lambert flailed, wondering whether he’d made her uncomfortable. Fuck, she'd seemed comfortable, if anything it felt like he’d been following her lead but maybe...

"I—yeah. That was, I enjoyed that. Were... were you not—?"

Essi smiled and Lambert relaxed again, "No, I was. I wanted to ask in case, that's all. Boundaries and all that. I'll text you when I'm home."

Lambert opened the door and waved her off toward the elevator, "'Kay. 'Night!"

The door clicked shut.

Okay, alright. Fine. Did they cuddle? Yes. Did he enjoy it? Fuck yes. He absolutely didn’t care what anyone might think about how he chose to enjoy his time with other people. However, this didn’t stop him from acknowledging that he was in uncharted friendship territory. More than anything, he was worried about how Essi really felt. Of course, she had no reason not to be honest with him. But the last thing he wanted to do was play fast and loose with someone’s emotions, especially not a friend, and definitely not one as close as Essi. Time would tell. As Lambert’s head hit the pillow, the memory of her warmth and weight settled over him again, and he slept soundly for the first time in months.

***

“Yes Poppet, but have you slept together yet? Honestly, you’ve been dating for almost three weeks now, what could you possibly be waiting for?”

Oh, I don’t know, hell to freeze over? You to mind your own business? Whichever comes first…

“I mean, you clearly adore one another, I’ve never seen you happier. What’s there to lose?’”

Essi scoffed.

Julian placed his hands on her shoulders, “I know it’s been a while for you, but I think you can afford to let yourself go a little, have some fun, hm? Besides, it’s better to find out sooner rather than later if you’re sexually incompatible.”

She took a deep breath, “That’s a very good point, Julian, I’ll think about that.” The dating act was starting to wear a little thin, but it was worth not having to explain to anyone that they weren’t doing exactly what it looked like they were doing.

Julian took time to give his cousin a scrutinizing look, “Well, by the look of things it won’t be long anyway. If you spend all of your time together as tangled up as you were the other night when I came over, it’ll happen sooner rather than later. Just trust your gut, and when in doubt, a little hint never goes awry.”

Needless to say, Essi more or less ignored her cousin’s advice.

As the weeks stretched on, it became evident that they were quickly becoming what most people would consider to be more than friends. The first time they pulled the covers back and climbed into bed, each on their half of the mattress, they were aware that yet another boundary of friendship had been pushed a little farther into the grey zone. But, they woke up the next morning feeling happy, content, and refreshed, and surely there was nothing wrong with two people sharing a comfortable bed. Essi had woken up with crust in her eyes and her nightgown bunched around her waist. Lambert had woken up with morning wood and his hair a mess. Neither of them cared. People wake up in the morning, big deal.

Still, it didn’t stop the questioning that oscillated in the background of Lambert’s mind. Was he unknowingly leading Essi on by allowing her so much closeness without a clearly defined relationship? She’d made her own disinterest clear enough on their first “date”, but feelings change over time. What she’d told him three weeks ago might not be true anymore…

And then there was that soft warm tingle in the middle of his chest every time she lay her head in his lap, every time he ran his fingers through her hair. He knew he wasn't in love. Not that he was an expert, but what was all that "when you know, you know" bullshit if he couldn’t trust his own feelings? He loved her, sure, but more like a... not a sister, that would be weird. He didn't know what like. Whatever. Fuck it. Eskel had said it best three weeks ago: “As long as you're happy and everything’s healthy, that’s all that matters.” Yeah, sure. We’ll stick with that.

As far as Lambert and Essi were concerned, it was what it was, and whatever it was was working… wasn’t it?

***

"Fuckin' finally!"

The door to Essi's apartment clicked closed as the tenant wilted against it, emitting an exhausted groan, "Two. Hours. It took me two hours to get home!" She toed off her penny loafers and abandoned her purse and jacket in a pile by the front door, ignoring the hook three inches to her left. She flopped heavily onto her living room carpet.

"I see you found my spare key," she added, not at all surprised that Lambert had managed to let himself in.

"Yeah, you should probably put that in a less obvious spot," he answered, crossing to the door to hang her things up. "So, I see it's a lying on the floor kind of evening. Can I interest you in a drink to start? Vodka pairs well with the general vibe of Done-With-This-Shit, or we also have tequila if you feel like shouting out the window after a couple shots. Alternatively, there's gin if you want to cry later."

Essi smiled with her eyes closed, feeling her body slowly relaxing into the spongy throw rug underneath her, "You know me so well."

"Vodka?"

"Vodka. Euch, I need to vacuum!," Essi peeled herself to a seated position as clinks and clatters began in the kitchen. She hopped in the shower to rinse the day off, and after a few minutes, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

"Yeeees?" she called, playfully.

"Drink delivery!" Lambert hollered back, "you want this now or later?"

"Why are you so good to me?"

There was a draught of cool air as Lambert opened the bathroom door, "Because you only marginally annoy me. Here," he passed his hand between the shower wall and the opaque fish-scale-patterned curtain. "What's on the docket for tonight?"

Essi groaned, "I don't know, I'm sorry. I used all my brain cells trying not to murder people on the streetcar."

"Okay," Lambert sat on the lidded toilet, "here's the thing. I kinda maybe figured that might be the case so I kinda maybe picked up a few things to make dinner."

A shampoo-piled head poked out from behind the curtain, "You're kidding."

"Nuh-uh."

"I love you."

Lambert chuckled, "Yeah, you're alright. Come on, hurry up, this bathroom's a fuckin’ sauna, and I don’t want the croutons to get soggy." Essi burbled an answer about conditioner and almost done, and Lambert took that as his cue to leave.

Dinner was simple: pan fried Salmon with crispy skin (delicate and buttery on the inside); wax beans in butter (tender and not overcooked); grilled brussels sprouts (just beginning to brown on the edges); and a fresh caesar salad. Everything done to perfection. Full, content, and ready to take their relaxation to the next step they settled themselves on Essi’s blue-grey sectional to begin the arduous task of deciding what to watch.

This was proving particularly difficult with the addition of Essi's caveat that whatever they chose not be "too plot-heavy" which so far had included Masterchef, an interior design show, and program about shepherding in the Orkneys.

"Sweetheart, you gotta give me some slack here. I thought I was on track with the sheep!"

"I know, I'm sorry!" Essi muffled into his shirt sleeve. "I do like animals..." She gasped loudly. "BLUE PLANET."

Lambert stopped the endless scrolling and pushed play as the soothing voice of David Attenborough filled the small living room.

"Hey! Why'd you pause it?"

Lambert was standing up, "If we're going to do this, then we're doing it right. Hang on."

Essi slumped on the sofa as the microwave kicked on. In a few minutes, there was popcorn in their laps and half a bottle of vodka on the table with an ice bucket and lemon wedges in a bowl. Lambert read off his phone screen.

"We will take a drink when:

-David says 'Extraordinary' -David uses a clear understatement such as 'But then again, living in an active volcano is not without its risks' -An animal is being eaten -An animal is mating -There is sped up footage of a plant growing."

"Oh no," Essi lamented, chewing her popcorn ungracefully, "I'm going to get so drunk."

"You got it, Goldilocks. Fill up."

And with that, they were off, taking it slow with their vodka twists, but nonetheless feeling the warm buzz start to tingle under their skin. The box of microwave popcorn was empty by halfway through, and the remains of Essi's exhaustion had almost dispersed entirely.

"Ooh! Understatement! Drink!!"

By ten o’clock, pink-cheeked and feeling boisterous, they had finished with their favourite parts of Blue Planet, or at least the ones they had patience for, and had moved on to Planet Earth II.

“Holy fuck, that’s a lot of snakes—Go, you little fucker! Go!”

The drama on the screen had caused the two to separate from one another while Lambert invested himself in the success of the small lizard. Once the baby Galapagos Iguana had made it to safety, they were once again able to recline without Essi risking an elbow to the face.

She bundled against him, scooting farther between his legs where he leaned in the corner of the sectional. He gathered her hair and draped it over her left shoulder so it wouldn't get caught in his buttons—they'd learned that the hard way. It was still damp, cool to the touch, and smelled like verbena sea salt shampoo. He felt a pulse of affection ripple through him as her weight resettled. He loved that feeling. It had taken some time to get used to it. But now it was high on his list of favourite things. He was happy. And it was healthy. And that really was all that mattered.

Right?

Eskel’s words turned themselves around again in his mind as he wrapped his arm around the front of Essi’s shoulders. He let himself indulge in the texture of her cotton knit nightshirt under his fingers. He relished in the peace of mind at being able to just be there with someone who meant something to him and made absolutely no demands. He let himself relax.

Essi felt a kiss land on the top of her head with a playful, "Muwah!"

She giggled quietly, "Thank you!" Then, upon further thought… Did he want to kiss her? Her mind did a double take as she tried to get on top of the ball.

It wasn’t impossible. They were close after all, and she wasn’t opposed to the idea. She’d recently found herself in a balancing act of realizing she could, in theory, have a deeper kind of feeling for Lambert. Only if, for whatever reason, it turned out he felt the same way. These weren’t the helpless uncontrollable feelings of ride-or-die infatuation; they were malleable, translatable, general feelings of affection and fondness that belonged in any number of different relationships and dynamics.

No sense risking it, she thought. They'd found a liminal space of comfort and safety that she'd never experienced with anyone else before, and if the options were between being a little confused and ruining everything, the choice was an easy one. Then again, if Lambert was developing feelings for her, she didn’t want to miss an opportunity. Shit. Her cheeks burned as she felt the question rise closer to her lips.

"Lambert?" she sat up abruptly and turned to her friend who was still moulded into the corner of the couch, watching the mating rituals of exotic birds with bewildered skepticism.

He jolted at Essi’s sudden movement, "Hello, yes."

Her bright blue eyes were now slightly unfocused, "Do you—? Nevermind." She lay back against him, suddenly skittish..

"Mm, nah, try again," he said, sluggishly. "What’s up, buttercup?"

She swayed a little when she sat up, "Are you happy with what we are?"

Lambert blinked, caught slightly off-guard. The question was easy enough to answer, "Yeah! I mean I don’t know what the fuck we are, but I’m feeling pretty good about it. Shit, why? Are you not? I can be less… whatever. Or… more?" It wasn’t like he was repulsed by the idea of anything else happening between them—in theory it was a possibility. In practice, however...

Essi put an emphatic hand on Lambert’s knee, her glassy eyes going wide, "Do you want more?"

"What? No! I dunno, I—maybe. I haven’t really thought about it. I mean…” Lambert searched Essi’s face for any clue that might help him know how to proceed, “I don’t not want anything else. Fuck, I don’t know! I’m used to doing things the other way around. You know the drill: uncomfortable date, smoosh faces together, have sex, hope feelings fall out. Lather-rinse-repeat. I dunno, do we have to… But what if we try something and...? I don’t wanna lose this."

Essi leaned in close and whispered, “I have an idea.”

"Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?"

"We should kiss."

Lambert nearly swallowed an ice cube, "What?!"

"Just once. Quickly. Just... in case."

"You want me, Lambert, to kiss you, Essi Daven, on the lips."

She nodded sincerely, "For science."

There was a brief pause during which Essi felt the beginnings of panic brewing in her stomach, but by the time she'd finished grappling with potential consequences, Lambert was filling their glasses.

"Alright. Fine. My friend wants me to kiss her for science? Fuck it. I'll drink to that."

They downed their drinks and squared up, knee to knee on the edge of the sofa as they each prepared for their best form—or as good as they could offer given the circumstances. They counted down, 3-2-1...

The kiss was quick, over as soon as it had begun, and both friends pulled away with questioning looks. Inconclusive. They tried again for a little longer, still returning with the same quizzical expressions. They went in for a third time, committing more thoroughly, and for a brief moment it seemed they might have found the semblance of a spark. But it didn’t build. It felt… fine? But no different than if they were lying together on the sofa. It was just another thing they were doing. They each tried to find the right word for what they were feeling, but were soon distracted by the oddness of it all.

Essi started to giggle. Less than a second later, Lambert joined her, and they both pulled away, thoroughly satisfied that their experiment had yielded a strong No on the subject of More. There was a dull thud as Essi slid from the couch and onto the floor, still holding her drink in one hand and laughing hysterically.

Lambert sighed and shook his head, "I think it’s time we got you to bed."

Headaches and dry mouths greeted the two friends the next morning when they blinked awake. Essi’s hair was a cotton-candy mess, having still been slightly damp when Lambert put her to bed. The brunet himself didn’t look much different from his usual scruffy state as he gathered Essi up in an armful of duvet and squeezed tight.

“Gods, Lambert, I still need to breathe,” Essi chuckled, pressing her back into his chest.

“You’ll get over it,” he teased and self-indulgently nuzzled even closer. “You feeling alright? I mean, aside from the hangover. About last night?”

“Oh no,” Essi groaned, “I’m so sorry, Lambert. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just—you kissed my head and then that got me wondering about whether you might want something else, and then I didn’t really know what was happening and—”

“Hey, easy on the rambling, okay, I’m running on limited brain cells, here. Look,” Lambert sat up to find those big blue eyes, now shining brightly, “I have no idea what the fuck this is that we’ve got going on, but I like it fine just the way it is.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And we can keep talking about that. Just, you know, maybe next time something’s on your mind, don’t wait ‘til we’re wasted at 2am?”

“Okay, deal. Can we go get bacon now?”

Lambert chuckled, “Yeah, alright, fine. Make me put pants on, I see how it is.”

Their conversation continued over strong coffee and eggs benedicts. Between their check-in that morning and everything that had happened the previous night, it was well-established that they were perfectly happy where they were. Rather, the main topic of conversation was their growing desire to level with their friends about the nature of their relationship. Eskel and Geralt, they both agreed, would be the easiest—Lambert could tell them that evening. Julian and Essi’s friends on the other hand would be a little more difficult.

Telling Julian together would be best, Essi thought. He was bound to have questions, and if both she and Lambert were there to answer them definitively and explain that no, they didn’t have secret feelings for one another; and yes, they really were just friends and not at all interested in exploring the relationship further thank you very much. Exactly when this discussion with Julian would occur still wasn’t clear. Realistically, they could pick any time, but they decided to wait until Lambert could tell the Old Men. At least then they were assured some less invasive support.

Their reaction was easy enough to predict: Eskel reassuringly repeated his standby “As long as you’re both happy with things…” and twirled a forkful of pasta; Geralt tilted his head thoughtfully and said, “That sounds very nice. I’m happy for you.” Lambert had expected mild disapproval, concern that they were deviating too far from the norm and into a complex dynamic that would be too messy to manage. Instead, Geralt simply said it ‘sounded very nice.’ Lambert smiled into the open refrigerator on his way to get a beer.

The following weekend was Julian’s birthday, and, as per their annual tradition, the group all gathered on Friday evening at the birthday boy’s favourite restaurant—Vegelbud’s. The two decided to tell him the week after his birthday so as not to detract from his Big 3-0. Just one more week, and it would all be in the open. Easy breasy.

The afternoon of the dinner, Eskel and Geralt received a group text: Haven’t told Julian the details yet. Keep the beans to yourselves please (I’m looking at you, @Eskel).

“Why me?” Eskel turned to Geralt over his paperwork, looking a little hurt.

Geralt chuckled, “You have a slight tendency to overshare when you want to be supportive.”

“I do?” He turned on the bar stool to follow his partner on the way upstairs.

“It’s not a bad thing, but…” Geralt sighed, “Lambert has always needed to feel in control of situations like this. He doesn’t want one of us bringing this up before he’s ready to talk about it, especially in a public place, you know how he gets when he feels cornered. And Julian is Essi’s cousin…”

Eskel raised a hand, “You’re right, you’re right. All points taken. Are you showering?”

Geralt smirked as he headed for the stairs, “Come on then.”

Four hours later and halfway through dinner, everything had gone swimmingly. The food had been expectedly delicious, the company and conversation excellent, and so far no one had felt the need to bring up Essi and Lambert’s relationship on any level. That is until Julian got a few drinks under his belt, and decided it was time to document the occasion. Geralt and Eskel were the first victims.

“Aww just look at you two! So in love, so vivacious and full of adoration,” Julian held up his phone as Geralt touched the side of his head to Eskel’s. Beep-Chk! A perfect image of a happy couple was captured and posted to Instagram (#julianturns30 #dinneratvagelbuds #dinnerout #cutiesofinstagram #favoriteotp #gaycouplesofinstagram #livelaughlove…). There were a few more photos of the three of them together, the white chocolate raspberry cheesecake with the candle in it, a group shot taken by the waiter. It was all so close to being over, Essi could practically taste the refuge of the streetcar.

"Come on, lovebirds, show us a smooch!" Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Essi’s stomach lurched and she felt her cheeks start to warm. Lambert’s hand landed gently on her knee under the table, his fingers pressing firmly into her leg as she desperately tried to think of something to say.

"Oh, um..."

Across the table, Geralt and Eskel shared a wordless communication: de-escalate, distract, redirect.

“You’ll want to eat that cheesecake before it gets warm” Geralt offered. “I hear it’s so light it’ll disintegrate in a heartbeat.” Eskel nodded in encouragement, taking a bite of his own.

“I know, I know,” Julian shrugged, “Just a quick one. Say Cheese!”

"Not right now, Julian," Essi tilted her head, her eyes flashing a little.

"Oh come on, Poppet! I know you don't like PDA, it's just one little picture--"

“Don’t call me Poppet.”

Eskel cleared his throat loudly, "Doesn't seem they're that keen on it. Maybe let's try for one another time."

"It's past your one-month-a-versary, let everyone see how in love you are."

"Julian," Geralt growled, "leave it."

Julian covered his mouth in alarm, "I’m so sorry, have you not used that word yet? I didn’t mean anything by it, I just want the world to see how happy my beautiful cousin is!"

“Really Julian, it’s not necessary we—” Essi’s fingernails were starting to dig into Lambert’s palm from the sheer effort of maintaining composure. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to cry or disappear, and with neither of those being an option, it seemed the only possible escape was for them to kiss. They’d done it before. No big deal. It would feel off, but they’d just go back to her place and drink about it after.

“Essi, what’s the matter with you, it’s just one little picture, and we all know you’re not camera-shy. On three, ready? One, two…”

"For fuck's sake we're not dating!"

The table all silently turned their attention to Essi whose cheeks had been turning progressively redder.

“What?” Her cousin laughed incredulously.

“We’re not a couple, Julian. We’re friends. We have been from the beginning, but we didn’t want to tell you because we knew you wouldn’t fucking leave us alone until you could boast about having set us up.”

Lambert shared a brief look with Eskel before lowering his eyes to the tablecloth, his hand still firmly clutched in Essi’s.

Julian gaped, “So, it was all… the cuddling, the laughing, that time I came over and you were asleep on the couch, that was all… a ruse?”

“No, Julian, that was real. I told you, we’re friends.”

“That’s not friends! Since when have friends watched a movie half-on-top of each other?”

“Two people can enjoy each other's company lying flat, Julian,” Eskel’s rich voice interjected across the table and the discussion ground to a halt.

Geralt shrugged with his tea at his lips, “It is the twenty-first century after all.”

Julian’s cornflower blue eyes flitted back and forth between the two friends, utterly bewildered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well what with your complete and utter invasion of privacy for the sake of hooking us up, we didn’t necessarily trust you to believe us,” Essi answered curtly, her hand shaking slightly.

“Poppet, you could have just told me—”

“Stop. Calling me that. And I did tell you, Julian!” she exploded. “I told you the first day I moved here. The first. Day. I said, ‘Julian, I think I want to take a break from dating until I’ve been settled for a year.’ And what did you do? Conspired with my well-meaning former mentor to hook me up with someone I had one good conversation with at a Christmas party. And do you know what? We are happy. But we’re happy in our own way. And maybe our boundaries with each other seem a little strange to you, but we’re not fooling ourselves. We don’t want to kiss each other, we don’t want to have sex, and we don’t want a relationship. And even though it’s absolutely none of your damn business, I’ll tell you anyway: we’ve talked about it. All of it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t think I want to be here anymore.”

The chair legs scraped against the floor of the restaurant as Essi stood to leave, throwing her purse over her shoulder as she went. Lambert looked hesitantly around the table, “I should probably, you know…” He gestured after Essi with his thumb. Eskel gave Lambert the go ahead and he quickly stood to follow his friend out of the restaurant, leaving a very stunned Julian with the other two. He found her perched on the parking barrier in the small lot to the left of the front doors. He called to her and she looked up. Eyes shining, mascara running...

“Ah shit, you know I’m no good with this kind of thing.”

“I’m sorry, Lambert, I just—” she blew her nose, “—he just wouldn’t stop and I didn’t know what to do or say, and it all just came pouring out. I didn’t want it to. The whole time I was begging myself to stop, but I just couldn’t, it’s been bottled up for so long and-and—but it’s his birthday, and—oh, he must feel so awful! I didn’t want to make him feel bad, but—and with Eskel and Geralt there too! They must think I’m horrible! I’m so sorry, Lambert, I didn’t want it to be like this, I wanted to have him over and sit him down and be patient, and instead I’ve just made a complete mess of things. And on his birthday! It’s his birthday, oh God, this is the worst thing I could have done.” Essi choked back bitter tears as she tried desperately to stem the flow with her soggy tissue, “Are you upset with me, Lambert? If you are, I understand. Maybe we should take a break of some kind, you know. Not see each other for a while and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it right there. Look, I’m probably not going to say any of the right stuff here, but I am absolutely not upset with you. You got that? And for what it’s worth, I don’t think us taking a break from spending time together is going to do anything. Unless you’re looking to punish yourself by taking away a nice thing which, okay. But the fact that you’re willing to ditch me instead of Arbor Mist says something about our friendship I’m not too pleased with.”

Essi turned her wide, pleading, bloodshot eyes to Lambert who cracked a smile, “Jesus, I’m kidding! You adorable fucking mess, c’mere.” He pulled his petite friend into a hug and rested his chin on the top of her head until she quieted down. Neither of them was quite sure how much time had gone by, but Essi found herself wishing it had been long enough for everyone to have gone home so she didn’t have to face whatever aftermath she’d left behind.

Meanwhile, Eskel and Geralt had settled the bill and offered to give Julian a lift back to their place for a night cap, not wanting to leave the evening on such an unsettled note. Essi needed space, and whatever company she needed, Lambert was clearly capable of providing. It was for the best, they suggested, and dissuaded Julian from trying to call her.

“Best to sleep on things,” Geralt said, tucking his card back into his wallet and giving the waiter a nod in gratitude. “We can meet for coffee this weekend and sort this out. For now, just let her cool down.”

Eskel clapped Julian encouragingly on the shoulder as they made their way into the damp summer night air. As they turned into the parking lot, they came face-to-face with Essi and Lambert who had clearly just turned to come back inside. Both cousins looked like they had seen better days: Essi’s eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks blotchy and streaked with inky makeup stains; Julian was perhaps less dishevelled, but the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced, his boyish features now dejectedly weighted down with remorse and hurt.

“Juian, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Essi’s cousin raised his hand, “Don’t. Please don’t. Essi, I am so, so sorry. I never meant to push you like that, I didn't realize... you both have been so happy this last month and—"

"It's okay, really, we can talk about this all another time. I'm just so sorry I ruined your birthday. We wanted to sit down with you and talk properly but..." Essi's tears welled up again, and Julian smiled weakly.

"But we both did what we always do?"

She sniffed, nodding emphatically with a tearful, "Yeah.” Julian pulled his cousin into a fond embrace while the other three clumped together to watch the reconciliation.

“Oh! Here,” Essi reached into her purse and pulled out a small, neatly-wrapped box. “Happy birthday!”

Julian opened his gift without a second thought, his face brightening instantly. The box contained a set of premium ultra-light guitar strings and a pair of concert tickets. The perfect gift. Overwhelmed with gratitude, and the atmosphere having been recovered, Julian suggested they all attend brunch together that Sunday morning, his treat by way of apology. Geralt offered to split the bill as a peace offering for his part in the initial setup, and the five made a date.

A fresh start, a promise of spending time together with fewer secrets and, Julian conceded, a few more boundaries.

#witcher rarepair summer bingo #wrsb #Platonic #queerplatonic #no romo #Geralt/Eskel #Essbert #Gereskel #Jaskier #Julian Alfred Pankratz #alcohol #drunkenness #Essi & Lambert #Essi Daven #Lambert

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sherrybaby14 · 5 years ago

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Bucky’s Bride

Request: Bucky stalks Y/N, pretends to be her friend, gets jealous that she's engaged, she's saving herself for marriage and her jerk groom is leaves her on the aisle. Or in other words Bucky steals the bride. 😉

Warnings: Noncon (Please do not read if this offends you), loss of virginity, smut

Words: 8K

The cover of the magazine was a smiling bride, decked out in a beautiful lace number. The headlines read ‘Dream Honeymoon’ and ‘Ten Best Bridesmaid’s Gifts’. You weren’t planning on a honeymoon or having bridesmaids. But your fiancé was getting annoyed with your lack of caring about the wedding, so you reached for the rag.

“Excuse me.” A stranger went for the same magazine and you grazed hands.

“Sorry.” You turned to see beautiful blue eyes and a handsome smile. His face was enough to make you blink twice. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” He grabbed two copies of the bridal magazine and handed one to you. “Getting married?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “You?”

“Congratulations. A beauty like you, I’m not surprised someone popped the question as soon as they could.” He smiled a million-dollar smile. You felt like the only one in the store. “No. No marriage for me.”

“You just like bridal magazines?” You tried not the think about the compliment, not used to hearing such things.

He erupted in laughter and threw his head back. You glanced from side to side, unsure why this handsome man was even paying you a lick of attention.

“I own a catering business.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a card. “Research. I have to stay on top of wedding trends.”

You took the card and nodded, realizing you were just a mark.

“I’m planning on a courthouse wedding. Maybe a small dinner after.” You handed the card back. “Not in the market for a caterer.”

“That sounds like a lovely wedding.” He pushed your hand. “I was only showing that I’m not some weirdo collecting bridal magazines. Keep it.”

You looked at the front: James Buchanan Barnes, owner ‘Longing Rusted’ restaurant and catering.

“This is the most popular restaurant in the city.” You’d heard stories of a month-long waitlist. “You’re Bucky Barnes?”

“Guilty.” He smiled.

You looked him up and down, suddenly feeling self-conscious. His clothes probably cost more than your rent. You wanted to get away from the intimidating man, buying the magazine was no longer worth it, but not wanting to bolt from the store.

“Hold on one second.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a buzzing phone. “Hello.”

Bucky had turned to answer the thing and you used the opportunity to accomplish option two, dropping the magazine as you left the shop and walked out on to the busy New York street.

It was rude, but the man was a celebrity around the city, and you didn’t want to embarrass yourself more than you already had. Your fiancé could deal with thinking you didn’t care about the wedding a bit longer.

“Come on out. I am sure that one is perfect for you.” The Bridal consultant was starting to sound annoyed.

“I told you, it’s just a courthouse wedding.” You sighed, the ballgown over the top, as you opened the door from the fitting room. “This is way too much.”

“But you look gorgeous!” She tightened the fasteners and led you over to the pedestal. “I thought you said your fiancé wanted a more traditional look. This is a traditional bride.”

“It’s not me.” You hiked up the skirt. “I don’t even care if the thing is white, to be honest.”

“If it isn’t the runaway bride?” A voice made you turn your head.

There stood Bucky Barnes, a smile on his face as he rested his arm on the wall.

“What are you doing here?” It had been two weeks since the magazine incident and all you could do was stare at him in shock.

“Stalking you of course.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Mr. Barnes.” Your consultant glared at you before going to kiss Bucky on the cheek. “I have the samples at the front of the store.”

“Most people at least say goodbye.” He pushed off the wall and walked toward you. “Where was the fire?”

You make me uncomfortable. Why are you talking to me anyway? That was what ran through your head.

“You’re a busy man. I didn’t want to waste your time.” You fidgeted, feeling his eyes on you.

“That dress doesn’t suit you at all.” He frowned. “Where’s your bridal party? Mom? Friends? You need some extra opinions.”

“Couldn’t make it.” You wanted out of the dress. “They’re coming in for the wedding. I haven’t lived in New York very long and they can’t afford to come out for all the little stuff. Really the only person in my life who seems to care about the wedding stuff is my fiancé.”

“Then where is he?” Bucky folded his arms.

“Doesn’t want to see the bride in the dress before the wedding.” You felt tears sting your eyes.

“Woah.” He reached out and grabbed your arm. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine.” You wiped your eyes before a drop fell.

“Come on.” He led you off the pedestal. “Get changed. I’m getting you out of here.”

“It’s okay. Really.” You didn’t object as he guided you to the fitting room.

“The only tears allowed in a bridal shop are tears of joy.” He stopped at the door. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Get changed.”

You sighed and felt some relief as the door shut. Wanting the gown off of you more than you realized. It didn’t take long until you were back in your jeans and sweater.

“I should really get home.” You grabbed your purse before opening the door. “And I’m sure you have some reason for the samples you need to get to.”

“A client wants the appetizers to be influenced by her dress.” Bucky laughed. “The same texture as the fabric. A picture wasn’t good enough.”

“Really?” That sounded so absurd to you. “Man I am not cut out for weddings.”

“What makes you say that?” Bucky grabbed an envelope from the consultant who didn’t even bother saying goodbye to you.

“All I want is the courthouse, a small dinner with close family. I’d rather get married in this than that.” You pushed open the door to the bridal shop. “Ugh, I do not need to unload on you like this. You’re a stranger.”

“I’m around a lot of brides. You don’t fit the mold.” Bucky ignored your last comment. “Most are excited about the dress, and the lavish party. Celebrating their love.”

“I don’t want the attention and it’s a waste of money.” You sighed as you looked up. “But my fiancé is getting annoyed with my lack of caring.”

“Well if he wants the big wedding make him plan it?” Bucky stopped a few stores down and pulled open the door to a coffee shop.

“I brought that up, but he doesn’t want to wait any longer. Plus he doesn’t even have a guest list. Not inviting a soul.” You went to the counter. “He’d rather I get my wedding with bits of his suggestions thrown in.”

“Like a ballgown?” Bucky pulled out his wallet. “Two black coffees.”

“Lucky guess. I take my coffee black.” You were happy for the change in subject.

“No luck.” Bucky winked at you. “I’m a stalker, remember?”

“Right.” You laughed. “How could I forget?”

“So why the rush?” Bucky took both coffees and nodded his head to a booth. “With the wedding?”

“We’ve been together for six months, he proposed. Doesn’t want to wait any longer.” You slid into the seat and took your coffee. “And I’ve kept him waiting long enough.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide at the innuendo.

“He’s been patient. It was important to me to wait for marriage.” You felt your face get hot. It was the reaction everyone you told had. You were crazy. How old were you? Why wait? What was the big deal? “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“There’s nothing wrong with values.” He gave a warm smile.

“This coming from the man who takes a new model to every opening?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Hey.” Bucky swatted your hand. “Now who is the stalker?”

“I may have googled you after our last run-in.” You felt yourself relax at the confession. “You’re accomplished. You should be proud.”

“What about you Y/N?” He leaned back. “What do you do for work?”

You chatted away about yourself. Shocked at how easy he was to talk to, giving little to no thought to the wedding dress debacle.

Calling around hadn’t worked, every place was booked. You thought if you made a plea in person someone might give, but you’d already crossed off your first two choices and your heart was heavy as you walked into your third.

“How many?” The hostess grabbed a menu.

“Actually, I was hoping to make a reservation for three weeks from Friday, for twelve people?” You thought three weeks' notice was plenty of time.

“Shouldn’t be a problem.” The hostess pulled out a notebook.

That was a good sign. This place didn’t even use computers. They had to have an opening.

“That’s strange.” She frowned. “We’re completely booked.”

“I didn’t even say the time yet.” Your stomach started to ache.

“Maybe we’re closed or something.” She turned the book to show you red blocking out the entire thing.

“On a Friday?” You thought you were going to throw up.

“Why is it whenever I see you, you’re in distress?” The familiar voice calmed you.

Bucky was right behind you with his million-dollar smile. After your last run in he was the closest thing you had to a friend in the city and you didn’t hesitate to fall into his chest and start sobbing.

“Hey.” He rubbed your back. “Shhh. It’s okay.”

He didn’t ask you any questions. Just held you as you cried. It was a week since your trip to the coffee shop. You didn’t exchange numbers or anything, he probably didn’t even remember your name.

“Shhhh.” He held you as he walked you to a corner of the restaurant and sat down in a booth, pulling you against him.

You cried and cried and cried.

“Here.” He brought a glass of water to his chest and you hiccuped as you took a sip. “Everything will be okay.”

“I’ve tried every restaurant and they’re all booked.” You lifted your head. “I haven’t had time to find a dress. My fiancé won’t help at all, but then he is mad at me for not doing enough and I don’t even care.”

“Did you try my recommendations?” Bucky didn’t stop rubbing your back.

“Yes!” You wiped your face and took more water. “All but two. I even name-dropped you.”

That experience had made you cringe, and you weren’t going to repeat the mistake.

“The marriage matters more than the wedding.” Bucky smiled at you. “A lifetime of happiness. Think of that.”

“The way I keep screwing up.” You leaned back in the booth. “And he’s been so busy at work with some new client. We haven’t even seen each other. It’s so stressful and I feel so alone.”

“That settles it.” Bucky grabbed your shoulder. “You’re having your wedding dinner at my restaurant.”

“Thank you.” You rolled your eyes. “But you’re out of my budget and don’t you have a month wait? I’m sure you’re all booked.”

“Consider it a gift to me.” Bucky squeezed a little. “I insist.”

“I can’t accept.” You sniffled. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“You can pay me in feedback.” Bucky laughed. “I’ve got a few new menu ideas I want to try out. I get to choose what you eat. That sound fair?”

“Thank you.” The tears started to well again, but you felt some relief.

“Party of twelve?” Bucky pulled you against his chest. “I’ll make rabbit, venison, there’s a wonderful cricket dish I’ve wanted to make.”

“I know you’re joking, but I’d been fine with any of those at this point.” You let out a laugh between a sniffle.

“Only the best for you.” Bucky rubbed your back.

“Why are you so nice to me?” You lifted your head and stared at him.

“I’m nice to everyone.” He shrugged. “And one month? Try six.”

“I know you’re trying to tease me.” Your lip started to quiver. “But now I feel worse.”

“Come here you silly girl.” Bucky pulled you back in as more tears fell. “You really are a one-in-a-million.”

Your fiancé was thrilled with the reservation. Of course, he was too busy with work to come celebrate, but a week later you found yourselves together.

Dinner turned to a movie that had turned into some kissing. You moaned into his mouth as he grabbed at your shirt.

“I don’t want to wait any longer.” He kissed your neck. “It’s only two weeks.”

“Stop.” You grabbed his wrist. “We’ve waited this long. It’s only two weeks?”

“Fuck.” He hopped up from the couch and ran his hands over his hair. “Do you know there are lots of women who would be thrilled with this?”

He ran his hands over the air in front of him.

“I’ve been pretty fucking patient.” He grabbed his coat. “Working eighty hours a week and can’t even get any from my own fiancé.”

“What?” You stood up and followed him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’m just stressed about the wedding and now this mystery client at work. I’ve already ignored at least five e-mails from them tonight.”

“Are you leaving?” You were hoping for some cuddles and time together.

“Really what’s the point?” He sighed and pulled out his phone. “Fuck. I have to head back to the office.”

“What’s the point?” Your nerves flared. “Relax. We can watch another movie?”

“Relax?” He scoffed. “I’ll take my blue balls somewhere else.”

You didn’t know how to respond as he went for the door. With another sigh he stopped and turned back to you, placing a hard kiss on your forehead.

“I didn’t mean that.” He opened the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Before you could process anything, he was gone. What did he mean his fiancé? Was there some other option? Now he had a problem, this close to the wedding? Your stomach was in knots.

You went to your phone and debated on calling your mom. But she wouldn’t understand. Maybe an old friend? Who did you talk to anymore? They all thought your choice was silly. They would side with your fiancé.

Your mind flashed to Bucky. You wished you could call him. Then your brain went off like a lightbulb. You went into your bedroom to the area you emptied your pockets. There it was, the business card.

You were bothering him, you were certain of it, but you didn’t want to be alone. Before your mind could talk yourself out of it you dialed the number. It was going to be the business line anyway.

Each ring made your heart skip a beat. Then you were met with one word.

“Hello?”

“I didn’t know your preferred flavor.” Bucky dropped a bag on the counter. “So I brought choices.”

You watched as he unpacked several types of ice cream on your kitchen table.

“I shouldn’t have called you.” It felt wrong having a man in your apartment this late.

“Yes, you should have.” He held up chocolate. “This is everyone’s favorite. Right?”

You nodded your head as you grabbed some spoons.

“Your menu is coming together. I think you will be surprised in a good way.” Bucky opened the lid. “Any luck on the dress?”

“No.” You brought your hand to your forehead. “I don’t want to think about the wedding tonight.”

“Let’s not think about anything.” Bucky grabbed your hand and led you to your couch. “Let’s eat ice cream and watch bad movies. Commentary encouraged?”

“I don’t know what that even means.” You sat down as he picked up your remote and started scrolling for a movie. “Ah perfect. A superhero film. Let’s point out all the flaws. Make fun of their costumes. Plot holes.”

You smiled and laughed, enjoying the levity. Maybe it wasn’t a mistake calling him.

Beep. You pulled out your phone.

You think I can win this fight? The text was followed by a photo of Bucky holding a lobster over his head. The sea creature snapping at him. You grinned.

“That fiancé of yours sure has you smiley lately.” Your coworker gave a wink.

A bang of guilt came as your smile dropped. Texts from him were less and less. Ever since the ice cream night, Bucky had your number and no problem using it. A friendship was fine, but once you were married this couldn’t continue. Not in this manner at least.

At Work. You almost didn’t hit send. But maybe some boundaries had to get put up.

Bucky never responded. You counteracted by texting your man, but all he sent was one word: swamped.

The guilt from both of them was gnawing at you. Bucky knew you were engaged. He was a friend. Harmless. But it still felt wrong.

Then your future husband’s lack of response made you angry. You stared at your phone, unsure which of them you should text.

A knock at your door sounded and you tossed your phone. It could be missionaries, but you would invite them in for the distraction alone.

Instead, you were greeted with a delivery person.

“Please sign.” They didn’t have a package behind them, but a dress rack.

“What is this?” You saw garment bags.

“Don’t know, don’t care.” He sighed. “Just sign your name lady.”

You scribbled it down and he shoved took off the bags and handed them to you. They were heavier than you thought and walked them to the couch with fear they would make your kitchen chair topple over.

The top one had an envelope attached to it. You ripped it open.

Sorry I was bugging you today. One week to go. Pick a dress.

Your heart melted. It wasn’t signed, but you knew who it was from. You opened each bag seeing beautiful after beautiful dress.

What an amazing friend.

You were about to text Bucky, but it didn’t feel right. You needed to call him. This time you were filled with excitement at the ring tones.

“I hope this means you liked your presents.” Bucky’s smile carried through the phone.

“Thank you.” You curled into your couch. “I now have a wedding dress. I picked…”

“Eh, eh, eh.” Bucky coughed. “I don’t want to know.”

“Where should I send the other ones?” You didn’t want to know the price tag.

“They’re all yours.”

�� “NO!” You covered your mouth. “I mean, I can’t. You’ve done too much for me.”

“Then you want to do me a favor?” Bucky paused. “As repayment?”

“Whatever you like.” You were in no position to turn him down.

“Come taste test some stuff for me.”

“Now?” You looked down at your pajamas.

“I am tapping confirm on the Uber…they will be there in two minutes.”

“Two minutes?!?!” You shot up from the couch. “I’m ready for bed.”

“Two minutes.” Bucky laughed. “I’d start heading downstairs unless you want to ruin my five-star rating.”

“Ugh.” You grabbed your purse. “I’m on my way.”

A Friday night at Bucky’s restaurant. Your comfy pants may as well have looked like a Halloween costume.

You almost didn’t walk in, but the hostess waved you from the window. Some people sneered at you, but you were escorted to the very busy kitchen. You expected to see Bucky, but all you saw were heated chefs yelling at each other and paying no attention to you.

Basement stairs appeared and you were walked downstairs. The hostess opened the door and it looked like a mad scientist’s lab.

“You’re here!” Bucky was putting this finishing touches on what looked to beautiful to eat. “Have a taste?”

Before you could acclimate, he held a spoon to your lips. It tasted like heaven and you plopped down on a stool by the counter.

“Please explain why I was hesitant to come if you’re going to feed me that?” You licked your lips at the flavor.

“I promise. They won’t all taste that way.” Bucky went back to his bizarre kitchen. “I expect a full report on every dish.”

You settled on the stool, eager for this night now.

“I can’t believe this place is so empty now.” You walked into the main restaurant, lights off and tables empty. “It was so crowded when I got here.”

“I don’t like crowds.” Bucky flipped on a low light. “It always looks this way to me unless I have to put on an appearance.”

“You don’t strike me as the put on an appearance type.” You walked next to him, not ready to leave. “You’re so genuine.”

“It’s rare when people like us find each other.” Bucky shrugged. “Genuine people.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You were getting married in a week. Here.

“I’ve narrowed my date for your big day down to three.” Bucky ran his hand over his hair. “I assume I am invited?”

“Of course.” You laughed and hid the disappointment. You were being crazy; you were nothing to him. “I value our friendship. One week to go.”

“Relax.” Bucky pulled you in for a hug. “Enjoy yourself.”

“My mom lands on Tuesday. I’m going to try to entertain her. She is a bit out there.” You weren’t sure you wanted to get into it, but the thought left your mouth. “I mean I love her, and I am so excited to see her.”

Bucky stopped at the bar and pulled out a chair.

“Tell me all about it.”

You didn’t hesitate as you sat down, ready to speak your mind.

“Am I ever going to meet the man who is finally marrying my virgin daughter?” Your mom took another sip of wine. “The wedding is tomorrow right?”

“Work has him crazy.” You looked at your phone again.

This week was met with no messages from Bucky and minimal ones from your fiancé. The last one was him bailing on dinner tonight because of how crazy work was. But plenty of comments from your mother about how you should test the goods.

“Do you know how many men I have slept with?” She put her hands above her head in a stretch.

“No.” You almost messaged Bucky, but then thought it should be your fiancé.

“Neither do I.” Your mom grabbed your chin, making you ignore your phone. “Baby are you sure you want this? I love you. I know how different we are. You’re not me, you’re better. But…be you, not some fantasy of you.”

“Would you paint my toenails? Like you did when I was little?” You tried not to cry.

“Of course.” Your mom grabbed your hands and kissed them. “Anything for my little girl. The night before her big day.”

A knock on your door woke you. You groaned as you rolled out of bed and went to answer. A swarm of people entered your apartment like you weren’t even there.

“James said we’re to make you flawless.” There was a chorus of five people saying the same thing.

You gave up objecting after five minutes. One went for your misspainted toenails, you stopped them.

“Those stay.” Memories of your night with your mom flooded back.

There was a warning in your gut to check your phone, but you left it in the bedroom, and you didn’t want to disrupt Bucky’s final gift. Besides, it was your wedding day. There was no point in complaining.

Your cellphone now felt like the weight of the world as you paced back and forth outside of the courtroom. Constantly calling your fiancé on repeat.

The ring….ring….ring…to voicemail was killing you.

Did something happen to him? Was it cold feet? Something worse? You thought of the ten people seated inside, waiting for you two to enter.

“I was hoping you would pick the black and silver number.” Bucky’s voice made your head snap up. “You are stunning.”

Bucky was there, a white shirt and black pants, hair slicked back. Arms wide open, ready to congratulate you.

“I don’t know where he is.” You couldn’t hug Bucky, you needed to get a hold of your soon-to-be-husband. “What if something happened? Is he standing me up? Thank you for the hairdresser and makeup artist, and the masseuses, and the nail technician. And everything. But where is he???? We were supposed to start our five-minute ceremony one minute ago?”

Bucky looked nervous. He glanced around the hallway. He always had the right answer, but he looked lost.

You about had a collapse on the floor laughing. Everything was so fucked.

“I’ve held my tongue, but he is an asshole.” Bucky picked you back up and glared you in the eye. “You can do so much better.

“But I love him. He is going to be my husband?” It came out like a question as you stared Bucky in the eye. “This is so embarrassing. My mom, aunts, uncles, and cousins are in there. They came to New York for no reason.”

“Do you love him?” Bucky looked around your face. “Really?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe?” Right now you had a hard time believing you could ever love someone capable of standing you up on your wedding day. “I have to go in there and tell them. The wedding is off.”

“Hey, none of your family know him, right?” Bucky rolled his shoulders back. “I don’t know what is happening. But I’ll be your groom.”

“What?” You snapped your neck toward him. “Are you insane?”

“It won’t be legal. Just a show. Then we’ll take your family back to the restaurant. Have the party. You can save some face and come up with some story later.” Bucky grabbed your arm and wove it around his. “Come on.”

Your mind was racing with objections to Bucky’s idea and fury over your fiancés’ absence. But before you pulled your arm away he pulled open the door.

The only people in the room were your family. They all rose and smiled as Bucky walked you down the aisle.

“Smile.” He leaned in to you. “You look terrified.”

“This is a terrible plan.” You whispered back.

“One we are doing anyway.” Bucky squeezed your hand tight when you stopped right in front of the judge.

“This is one of the best pleasures of my job.” The man in the robe beamed at you. “You look like a fine young couple and I wish you much happiness in life.”

“We will have a very happy life.” Bucky beamed, but you felt as if you were in a daze.

“Did you write your own vows?” The Judge asked.

“No.” Bucky was taking the lead. “Just want it short and sweet.”

“Alright, I can do that. You’re up first. Repeat after me.” The Judge cleared his throat. “I, say your name…”

Your body went on autopilot when Bucky looked at you, holding both of your hands as he repeated the marriage vows. When it was your turn you didn’t stop, feeling all your family’s eyes on you as you spoke the words.

“By the power invested in me from the state of New York, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The Judge smiled.

Bucky’s hand touched your cheek, cupping your face as his lips pressed into yours. He parted them slightly. He was soft, inviting, and his kiss struck you at your core.

It felt like the entire world went silent, the cheers of your family distant in the background. When he pulled away, you lunged in for more and a whimper left your mouth.

“Congratulations!” Your mom hugged you first. “Welcome to the family James!”

“Please, call me Bucky.” He added.

“I knew she called you something other than James. That didn’t sound right.” Your mom laughed, not even noticing that Bucky was certainly not your fiancé’s name.

“Let’s go celebrate.” Bucky wove his fingers in with yours.

The little wedding party followed you outside. Your phone buzzed and you pulled it out as you walked don’t the steps.

I’m sorry. Don’t hate me.

With one quick push, you blocked the number.

At least you didn’t need to worry about him being dead in a ditch.

“Everything okay?” Bucky whispered in your ear.

“No.” You gave him a fake smile. “My family thinks you’re my husband and I just got left at the alter.”

“Worry about that later.” He pulled your hand to his lips and gave a kiss. “Enjoy your day.”

You rolled your eyes in disbelief. This was out of control.

“He is quite the catch.” Your mom whispered to you in the private room in Bucky’s restaurant. “You did good.”

“Mom, there’s something I have to tell you.” You turned toward her.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” Bucky stood up from the table where you’d just had the most delicious meal of your life.

A server came into the room with a tray of champagne. Your family all took a glass and you did the same.

“The second I saw my lovely wife I was smitten. It was at a grocery store. She was shopping for an avocado. She picked up so many and held them, putting them back I had to watch. Eventually, I started to count. I missed the first half, but she tried fifty-one others. Who does that? At first, I found it odd, but then I started to think what is she making with that avocado? Why does it need to be so perfect? She’d passed up at least thirty great choices.

“I was about to tell her as much, but then her nose scrunched and she walked away. I was smitten. And I wanted to chase after her with a perfect avocado. That’s when I fell in love with her. Before we’d even said hello. I knew I wanted to spend my life giving her perfection.”

There was a chorus of awwws, from your family. Bucky waved you over and you went next to him.

“To the happy couple!” Your uncle rose his glass.

Everyone said cheers and clicked glasses while Bucky placed a kiss on your cheek.

“That story.” You whispered in his ear. “That’s true?”

You remembered searching for the avocados and giving up.

“Every word.” Bucky gave you a peck on your lips. “Please, stay as late as you like. But I think it’s time I took my lovely wife home.”

Everyone applauded as Bucky started to walk you out of the room. You were touched by his story, but there was a nagging in the back of your mind.

Bucky held open a car door for you and you slid inside. Trying to piece it together.

“The avocado thing. It wasn’t the same trip as the bridal magazine.” You looked out the window.

“Sure it was.” Bucky laughed as he started the car.

“No, it wasn’t. I remember because that’s when my fiancé told me to get a bridal magazine. I came home with no avocado and he said I should have at least grabbed one of those from the checkout.” You looked at Bucky for a clue.

“You shouldn’t bring up your fiancé to your husband.” Bucky smiled. “Screw that guy. He isn’t worth a single thought of yours.”

“Thank you.” You shook your head. “For what you did today. I’ll have to come up with a reason we aren’t married in a few months, but you saved me from some major embarrassment.”

“It was an honor.” Bucky turned right.

“My place is the other way.” You pointed to the left.

“Isn’t your mom staying there tonight?” He tapped the wheel. “Spend the night at my place, to keep up appearances.”

“You’re right.” It would be hard to explain not spending your wedding night with your husband.

Bucky turned into a parking garage. The attendant waved him through. You looked up at the skyscraper as you disappeared inside.

“You live here?” The building looked expensive.

“When I’m in New York.” He pulled into a reserved parking spot. “I’ve got a few properties elsewhere.”

“I didn’t realize you were so…”

“Rich?” Bucky opened the door and you did the same. “I know. It’s part of your charm.”

Bucky led you into a luxurious lobby, waving at the concierge as he held your hand. You walked into the elevator and he hit the button for the top floor.

“Facial recognition.” Bucky smiled. “Pretty neat huh?”

“This is crazy. I knew your restaurant was popular, but….” This was too fancy.

“You didn’t google much besides the models huh?” Bucky laughed. “I own six restaurants…in New York. Fourteen other restaurants around the globe. I’ve also got a portion of a casino in Vegas with a friend.”

“But you’re so down to earth.” You shook your head.

“Thank you.” Bucky shrugged and the elevator came to a stop. “Home sweet home.”

The doors parted to an amazing space. The view of the city was insane. There were modern couches and an open floor plan with a top of the line kitchen. This was not what you were expecting.

“Looks like word travels fast.” Bucky walked to the table and saw a bottle of champagne and strawberries. “The building sent up a congratulations bottle.”

“That’s odd.” You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the view.

“I’ll get some glasses.” Bucky walked into the kitchen.

“All of this and you have a catering business?” You turned to face Bucky as things started to connect in your brain.

“Well, I don’t do the day-to-day. Really it’s not that successful. I’ll probably focus on other operations.” Bucky pulled out the stemware, reaching the top shelf. A folded up piece of paper fell out of his pocket.

“And that bridal shop, you were picking up the sample from, that wasn’t high end. What bride would buy her dress there and afford you as a caterer?” Your mind went to the coffee shop. “You knew my coffee preference, and you knew my name. I never told you.”

“Of course, you did.” Bucky came back over and started to pour the drinks.

“And all the places that were booked were your recommendations. Did you tell them to blacklist me?” You locked eyes with Bucky. “So, I’d be forced to celebrate at your place. And my fiancés’ mystery client, keeping him so busy at work, was it you?”

“It’s been a long day.” Bucky put his arm around your shoulder. “You’re sounding a little crazy. Why would I have this elaborate plan?”

The nerves started to fizzle out as you shook your head.

“I’m sorry. You’re right.” Besides what did Bucky have to gain from it? A fake marriage. “Today was crazy. And you helped me.”

You rested your head on his shoulder and he kissed your forehead.

“I would like to take you out on a date though.” Bucky clinked your glass. “Not as friends.”

“It’s a little soon.” You gave a nervous laugh. “Maybe I should take some time to heal.”

“You don’t seem broken to me.” Bucky’s hand slid off your shoulder. “Want a tour of the place?”

“Sure.” You hoped you hadn’t hurt Bucky’s feelings. You touched your lips and thought about the kiss earlier. There was a spark between the two of you.

“Gimme a second to make sure I hid all my psycho stalker stuff.” Bucky made a fake pistol with his hand.

You rolled your eyes. At least the man had a sense of humor about it. You wondered how long it would take to live that down.

The apartment went quiet as he disappeared down the hall. You tapped your fingers on the table and then noticed the paper on the kitchen floor. It stood out against the perfection of the place.

You walked over and picked it up, almost setting it on the counter. But your fingers got the best of you and you unfolded it.

The words weren’t registering. You read them over and over again. How was this possible? Was this a mistake? A joke?

“I was hoping to wait a bit until you saw that.” Bucky’s voice no longer brought comfort.

You turned toward him with the paper in your hand.

“It seems like a lot, I know, but we’re perfect for each other. You know it and I know it! What was the point in waiting?”

“How?” There was a tremble in your wrist.

“I have some friends. Pulled some strings.” Bucky scratched the back of his head. “Really, this is a good thing. Think about it.”

“I was right. About everything. Wasn’t I?” Your voice shook. “The avocados, the fake catering company, the dress shop, the restaurant, the marriage?”

“I may have created some situations that led to our interactions.” Bucky sighed. “I don’t want to start our life out with lies.”

“Start our life?!?!” You glanced at the paper. “Oh God. My fiance. What did you do to him?”

“He’s fine. I promise.” Bucky walked closer to you and you took a step back, holding up your hands. “He may have drank something that caused him to oversleep.”

You thought back to the text message he sent. I’m Sorry. Don’t hate me. You had blocked him so you didn’t see the rest.

“He wasn’t apologizing for leaving you at the altar. He was apologizing for oversleeping.” You pushed passed Bucky and went to your purse. Grabbing your phone.

You went to his contact and hit unblock. A whole flood of messages came in.

“He showed up at the restaurant. Your employees threatened to call the cops.” You looked up at him in shock.

“What are you doing?” Bucky’s eyes went to your phone.

“Texting him!” You started to type out an apology, but the tech was snatched from your hands.

“HEY!” You reached for the phone, but Bucky held it away from you. “Give that back!”

“I know this is hard to hear, but that guy was bad news. I had a private investigator follow him. He has girlfriends all over town. You’re one of three. He made no mention to any of them he was getting married.” Bucky continued to move away from you as you clawed for your phone. “His computer was filled with searches about annulments and divorces. He was only marrying you so he could sleep with you. Then he was going to leave you right away.”

“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!” You reached for your phone, but Bucky kept twisting. “Annulment?”

Relief flooded your chest. One problem solved.

“Keep the phone.” You grabbed the marriage license and picked up your purse.

“Where are you going?” Bucky looked shocked.

“Home.” You walked to the elevator. “That way I can get an annulment first thing in the morning.”

You looked around for the call button.

“I wish you wouldn’t have said that.” Bucky’s voice went cold.

“You think I was going to stay married to you.” You spun on a heel. “I don’t even know how you got the license without me. I’m getting the hell out of here. Now call the elevator.”

“This is why I wanted to wait to tell you.” Bucky cracked his neck. “With divorce. I can hire the best attorneys. Drag it out. There’s still plenty of time to prove to you that you love me.

“I don’t love you.” You snapped. “I don’t even know you.”

“That’s not true.” Bucky stepped closer. “Don’t be cruel just because you’re hurting. Everything I did, was with your best intentions at heart.”

“Best intentions?” You scoffed. “You manufactured our whole friendship and married me without me even knowing. I’m getting this annulled ASAP.”

The frustration rolled across Bucky.

“You can’t get an annulment if the marriage is consummated.” Bucky cracked his knuckles.

“You think I’m going to have sex with you?” You didn’t have time to even say the next part before Bucky came forward and put his shoulder into your stomach, hoisting you in the air. “PUT ME DOWN!”

“I was gonna take you on a few dates. Get you to open up more. Then ask you to marry me.” Bucky carried you down the hall as you pummeled his back. “Then we’d go to get the license and surprise! We’re already married. We would laugh and call it fate. It was all planned out.”

“Bucky you’re scaring me.” You tried to wiggle off of him. “Please put me down.”

He set you down on the bed and kneeled in front of you, putting his hands on either side of your face.

“You never have to be afraid of me.” He locked eyes with you. “I love you so much. I only want what is best for you.”

He hopped up to his feet and you looked around the bedroom. It was as fancy as the rest of the apartment, the bed was huge. You stopped looking at the interior when Bucky took his shirt off in front of you.

“What are you doing?” You stood up, but his hands found your shoulders and pushed you back down.

“I am going to make love to my wife.” He spoke with conviction.

You thought about shrieking. Running. Hitting. Kicking. Biting. Fighting. But instead, you froze. Terror leaving you glued in place.

“I know it’s your first time.” Bucky took off his socks and shoes. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Little gasps were leaving your mouth as you sat on the bed. Trying to will your body to react. To do anything. He pushed his pants down and you felt a tear drip down your cheek.

“Don’t worry.” The bed dipped. “I’m going to take such good care of you. You’ll see.”

His hand went to the zipper on the back of your dress.

“NO!” The movement shocked you into gear you shoved at him and ran for the door.

“Shhhh.” Bucky grabbed you, wrapping an arm around your waist and putting a hand over your mouth. “It’s still me. Think about all our time together. Ice cream at your apartment. Late night chats at the restaurant. I’m still that guy.”

You cried into his hand and went limp.

“That’s it.” He kissed your neck. “Don’t fight me or I’ll tie you down. If you scream I’ll gag you. Do you understand?”

You nodded your head as more tears fell.

“Good.” He placed a kiss on your head and loosened his grip. “I love you so much. I had to have you. All to myself.”

“You don’t have to do this.” There was a shake to your voice. “Please. Not like this.”

“If I don’t you’ll leave me.” There was a hand on your zipper, taking it down. “And now that you know it’s our wedding night I want it to be special. There’s really no point in waiting. We are married.”

You grabbed the straps of the dress, but Bucky wrapped his fingers around your wrists and pulled your hands down. The garment fell forward. He pushed it down over your hips so it fell in a pool at your feet.

“Stop.” You whimpered. “Please.”

“Shhh.” Bucky turned so you were facing him, both of you only in your underwear. “Just try to relax.”

His hand cupped your sex over your panties. He pushed his palm against you and ground down. You let out a meep and fell forward, bracing yourself on his shoulders.

“That’s my girl.” Bucky kissed your neck. His other hand at the small of your back. “Enjoying herself already.”

“I’m not.” You wanted to bite him, kick, scream, run. Anything, just to get away.

But while your brain struggled to make a plan your body reacts to his touch.

“Don’t lie to me.” Bucky gave a playful laugh.

“I’m not.” You caught your breath.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky stopped moving his hand, but your hips were rocking, humping his touch. He gave a chuckle and kissed your neck again. Before resuming his motions. “Its nothing to be ashamed of. I want you to enjoy this. I want you to enjoy every single one of our times together.”

You brought your hands to your face and covered it in embarrassment. How could you be participating? This wasn’t what you wanted.

“All those times I wanted to touch you, hold you, feel you this way.” Bucky started to move faster. “That body. That beautiful face. The way you hold yourself. I wanted to be perfect for you. To give you a perfect life. And I will. This is just the beginning.”

You wanted to tune him out, pretend this wasn’t happening. But You felt something growing inside of you. A need. One that was coming on fast.

“Oh God.” You grabbed on to his shoulder again. “No. I don’t want this!”

“Of course you do.” Bucky continued rubbing you. “I can feel how wet you’re getting through your panties. You’ve been turned on since the courthouse. Admit it. That electricity in the kiss? You felt it. We’re made for each other.”

“No!” You gasped as you gave up any semblance of control, letting your hips wiggle and grind against his hand with a moan.

“Don’t lie or I’ll stop.” Bucky threatened.

“Yes!” You cried into his shoulder, the need for release hovering. “Yes, I felt it!”

“Good job.” Bucky pushed down hard. “Now you don’t have to worry about me stopping.”

You realized that he just threatened you with the one thing you wanted less than a minute ago. Your heart flared at the response and then you cried out as pleasure erupted from your center.

You fell forward on to him, gasping for air as the room seemed to spin.

“Beautiful.” He kissed your cheek. “Absolutely beautiful.”

You didn’t have time to recover before he guided you back to the bed. You were still seeing stars when he unhooked your bra and slid off your panties. You went to cover yourself, but Bucky pushed off his boxers.

The sight of him made you groan and a shake run through you.

“I promise it will only hurt for a second.” He put a hand on your knees and spread them. “Then you will be all mine.”

“I’ll stay. I won’t leave you.” You tried to scoot away. “I promise. You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.” Bucky smiled. “It’s our wedding night.”

His hand found your hip and he pinned you down while his cock ran up your slit. There was no denying you were wet and you cringed.

“It’s okay.” Bucky kissed your lips. “Don’t tense up. You were made for this, for me.”

“Please?” You hated the way you sounded.

“Shhhh.” He brought his mouth on to yours, kissing you hard.

You should have fought, but all you did was part your lips and let his tongue slide inside. Memories of the church filled your mind and you moaned at how good he was the skill.

But then you felt pressure. He was sliding inside of you. It burned, but almost in a pleasant way. You tried not to clench as he moved further. Spreading your walls in a way you never thought possible. You bent your knees and readjusted trying to spread your legs further. Not wanting it to hurt.

“You did so well.” Bucky broke the kiss.

You looked between your bodies and saw he was satiated inside of you. You hated how hot it looked.

“But we’re just getting started.” Bucky resumed the kiss as he pulled out.

You didn’t mean to kiss him back, but there was so much happening your tongue responded. Then you felt the tingle between your legs grow again. This time much harder. Like all the energy in the room was being sucked inside of you.

You started to roll your hips to meet him. Grabbing on to his shoulders for something to brace yourself with. Needing more leverage to meet his motions.

This didn’t feel good. It felt amazing. You had to break the kiss as you struggled for air.

Both of your bodies worked with each other and against. A sheen of sweat grew on your skin.

“What….why?” You didn’t understand as you rolled your head.

“Cum for me.” Bucky railed into you. “Cum for your husband.”

You gripped the sheets as your toes curled. You didn’t try to fight it as your body let loose. Waves of passion and ecstasy spread from limb to limb as you did what you were told.

The urge to fight and flee with every pulse of the orgasm.

“What a good wife you are.” Bucky kissed at your cheek. “I’ll take such good care of you. Forever.”

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky #bucky fanfic #Bucky barnes fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #AU

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